Mirrors
by DearCassius
Summary: Liam Watson wasn't expecting much when he and his father moved from London to an American city. And he definitely wasn't expecting to share a locker with his dad's dead best friend's eccentric and rude daughter- but after all, like father, like son.
1. My Locker Partner Likes Glitter Glue

**Chapter 1: My Locker Partner Likes Glitter Glue**

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Erm… Hi, I guess. My name is William Watson. You can call me Liam, or William, or whatever you want, really. Why am I even writing this? I don't know. My dad suggested I start an "online journal", which is sort of like a blog, I suppose. He told me that it helped him work out his feelings when he was younger, so I figured I'd give it a try.

Is anyone even going to read this? I doubt it. Honestly, my life isn't all that exciting. Maybe I should just shut up and start talking about my day. That's what people do in journals, right?

**0-0-0-0**

The air was bitterly cold as I walked up the flight of stairs that led into the school building. I pulled my scarf more tightly around my neck in hopes of staving off the chill, but it was no help whatsoever. London had never been this cold, even in the _dead_of winter.

Gratefully, I pushed through the front doors and found myself in a large commons-type area. Two or three students were milling around, but it was early enough in the morning that I didn't have to be the object of attention quite yet. Several staircases led off to upper parts of the enormous school building, and a maze of dingy hallways zigzagged to elsewhere.

I crossed the dark green industrial carpet, avoiding the shocked gaze of my new classmates, and entered the office. Really, it was rude to stare. Didn't they have manners here in America? Sure, my left leg was currently crippled, and yes, I was hobbling about on crutches, but _honestly_.

A blonde secretary sat behind the desk, fingers flying away on her keyboard. A couple of chairs had been shoved unceremoniously into a corner of the small office, and a sleek black clock hung from the wall, slightly crooked. I sighed, awkwardly moving up to the desk.

The woman looked up as I approached her, light green eyes wide. Her fingers stopped clattering over the keys.

"Hello!" she chirped, far too happy for such a dreary Monday morning. "How can I help you?"

"Um, I'm new here. My name is Liam, Liam Watson. I came to get my schedule." I shifted on my crutches a bit.

"Oh," she said. Then recognition dawned on her face. "Oh! Yes, of course, you're the student from London. I have your schedule here."

She wheeled her office chair around and scooped up a stack of papers, riffling through them. "Let's see, Watson, William S. It's a good thing you arrived at school early. It'll give you time to get your bearings straight and everything." She slid the papers across the counter to me.

"Here is your first class." The secretary pulled a map of the building out of the stack and pointed to a classroom on it. "Geometry, with Mr. Barlow. And this is your locker. Our school is _way_too small for the number of students enrolled, so I'm afraid you'll have to share with someone else. But I'm sure you'll manage that just fine."

"Yeah," I replied, slightly put off by her overly cheery tone.

"Have an awesome day! I hope you love it here!" She grinned and returned to her seat, becoming lost in her work once more. The clattering of the keyboard keys started up again, filling the otherwise silent office.

"Thanks," I muttered before turning and leaving. Outside, I stopped and consulted my schedule. Mr. Barlow's class was all the way across the school. It would take me at least fifteen minutes to get there- and the secretary had said this school was _small._Yeah, right.

She was correct about one thing, however: it was good that I got here as early as I did, even if it meant losing another precious hour of sleep. I also skipped out on my morning tea, which was proving to be a big mistake. I felt like I was going to collapse any moment, deprived of my daily caffeine.

It wasn't like I wanted to move here in the first place. My dad, Dr. Watson, had received an amazing job offer at the local hospital, however, so now we were stuck in a drab and dull New Hampshire town. Already, I missed London and everything in it- the Thames River, winding lazily through the city; elderly Mrs. Hudson, my dad's friend from who knows when; my old school mates- _especially_ them. I longed for my previous school, even if it meant I was away from my dad for months at a time. Here, at least I could live at home, seeing as this was a public school that didn't offer accommodations for the students.

My mother passed away five months ago. Dad doesn't like to talk about it. He doesn't like to talk much about anything, really, especially his past. I eventually learned to just not ask him about it, much to his appreciation, and much to my irritation. Whenever his past was brought up, his eyes would turn vacant and sad, obviously wishing for a time long ago, and I just couldn't stand seeing him like that. It was hard enough watching him go through his depression as it was right now. Dad was the only family I really had left, aside from Aunt Harry, though she wasn't exactly close to us.

The only mementos that he displayed were a small framed photograph of my mum, which sat above the fireplace, and another framed picture of a man whose name I never learned. Next to that particular picture sat an unused and dusty violin, another thing I'd never learned the story behind. Sometimes, Dad would walk past these objects and get that look in his eyes again; I had to steer him away whenever that occurred, or he'd spend hours just staring, fingers stretched out as if to touch the grimy bow of the old violin.

I snapped out of my reminiscing and back into the present, momentarily forgetting where I was. I tended to do that sometimes- bad habit, I know.

Right, I was standing in the middle of my new school's commons area. Yes, of course.

Shaking my head, I adjusted my backpack to fit more snugly around my shoulders, and began to hobble into one of the halls.

This hall was as dingy close up as I thought it was from far away. Stray papers littered the ground, pencils had been stuck up in the ceiling, and the green and gold lockers were all dented up. The tiled floor was coated in dirt and debris, and I supposed that if I so desired, I could follow any one of the muddy trails of footprints all throughout the school. I sighed again, glancing down at my map. _Where had she said my bloody locker was?_I looked about hopelessly.

"Hey!" someone said behind me, tapping me on the shoulder. I turned around to see a girl around my own age of thirteen (and a half, mind you). She was shorter than I was, which was saying something, as my height wasn't exactly record breaking. Her curly and slightly frizzy blonde hair reached nearly to her waist, coupled with muddy brown eyes and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. "You look lost. My name is Hannah. You're the new kid from England, huh?"

"Yeah, that's me. My name's Liam Watson." Balancing on a single crutch, I managed to stick my hand out to shake hers. Her palms were warm.

"Nice to meet you," she said with another smile. "Where are you headed?"

"Um, I'm off to Geometry with Mr. Barlow. But I'm actually trying to find my locker first."

She took my schedule from my hands, smoothed it out from where it had been rumpled, and studied it. "Locker 1895... Hmm... It's down there," she made a gesture that pointed down a hall that adjoined with this one. Suddenly, her face brightened a considerable amount. "But I already know who your locker partner will be. Want to meet her?"

"Maybe later," I muttered warily, glancing down the long hall that led to my locker.

"Oh, come on. She's great, even if she's a little strange. Don't tell her I said that, though."

"I won't mention it," I said hastily. "But really, I need to be getting to my locker. I don't want to be late for my first class, and, well... These aren't helping." I waved my crutch a little bit in the air with a weak stab at humor, and she finally seemed to understand my predicament.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, if you don't meet her by tomorrow morning, I'll introduce you two. No excuses!" Her voice suddenly turned a bit demanding, but the playful light in her eyes told me that she was only joking.

"Alright, of course." I couldn't help but slightly smile back. Hannah's bubbly personality was infectious. "I better get going then."

"See you later, Liam!" She turned around and left me standing there, feeling slightly stupid. I had always been bad at talking to girls, and it seemed as if that would never change, whether I was in London _or _in America.

**0-0-0-0**

I spent the better part of the next ten or so minutes searching for my locker, while the hallway slowly filled up as kids arrived for the day. When I finally arrived at the dented, slightly rusty metal container, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. I could put my stuff down at last.

I let my backpack drop to the floor unceremoniously, seeing as there wasn't much I actually cared about in there anyways. I fiddled about with the combination lock for bit, but at last, it swung open. My jaw dropped as I looked inside.

The first thing I noticed was the bizarre collection of broken snowman-print pencils in a holder attached to the door. Likewise, the holder was coated in music-note shaped stickers. Then I saw the various jam jars lining the top shelf. One was clearly filled with water (or some other see through liquid of that sort). Another looked like it contained maple syrup. All of the jars, no matter what liquid they were full of, had coins sitting at the bottom.

An obviously well-cared for navy scarf hung from one of the hooks, accompanied by a leather messenger bag and a black, knee length dress coat. The bottom of the locker held a stack of seemingly random books on the strangest subjects, ranging from fiction to non-fiction. One title was _Botany in the Modern World_, while another was called _The Musical Styling of Ludwig Van Beethoven_, and a third, _A Study in Pink_. I saw that one book had had its pages completely ripped out and was now just a cover, though the title had been scribbled out with permanent marker. A cracked pair of safety glasses had been attached to the wall with a piece of clear tape. Perhaps the weirdest thing of all was the picture of Elvis Presley that had been stuck to the inside of the door. His eyes had been covered over with gold glitter glue, which had dried as it was dripping down his cheeks.

"Bloody Hell..." I whispered to myself as I took in the locker's contents. What kind of person was I locker-ing with? Is 'locker-ing' even a _word? _Wait, off topic again. Sorry.

The shrill bell rang from overhead, making me jump, which knocked my crutches over. I landed on my bad foot, and pain shot through my cast, coursing into my body. I spent a good thirty seconds jumping around, face scrunched up and otherwise looking like an idiot, before I managed to pick my crutches up from the ground. I was attracting a lot of unwanted attention by now, so I basically ripped my notebook out and shoved my bag in the locker, slamming it shut.

I huffed and set off for geometry, thoroughly embarrassed.

**0-0-0-0**

The rest of the day passed by slowly. It was as if the clock had purposefully slowed down just to bother me. My classes were nothing to talk about. My teachers were overenthusiastic about my move from London, particularly my geography teacher. All day they berated me with question after question about every aspect of my life. _Do you drink tea with every meal? Do Englanders really have bad teeth? Do you swim in the Thames River?_

My classmates could honestly care less about me. They stared at me as I passed by in the halls or when I was introduced in front of each class, but other than that, I was ignored. I spent the lunch hour in the library, because I hadn't made any other friends yet, aside from Hannah. I didn't feel comfortable enough to sit with her and eat, though she insisted on sitting next to me in every class we had together.

She was... well, she was cheerful, to say the least.

When the final bell rang at last, there was a great rush to exit the classroom. Apparently I wasn't the only one eager to leave the school. I waited for the crowd to die down a bit before I made my own way out into the hallway.

The halls were packed to the brim, and I could finally see why this school was too small for the number of students enrolled. Thankfully, my locker was very near this last class of the day. I approached it just in time to see my locker partner slam it shut and depart.

"Wait!" I called out after her. This was my chance to see the face behind all of the strange items in our locker. Either the person hadn't heard or she chose to ignore me, but she kept walking as if I hadn't been there at all. How _rude._

I shrugged it off and loaded my backpack with all the papers and textbooks I had accumulated throughout the day. I heaved it over my shoulders and set off, relieved that I had gotten this first day over with.

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><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_**Alright, this is just the first chapter. I will try to post the next one as soon as possible! This is my first Sherlock story, and I'm really excited to see how it does.**

**Thanks for reading. Please leave a review, because I'm eager to know what you all thought.**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	2. My Blue Marker Is Taken Rather Rudely

**Chapter 2: My Blue Marker Is Taken Rather Rudely.**

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"Liam," my dad shouted down the hall. "You're going to be late!"

I jerked out of my sleep, almost rolling off my bed onto the floor. _Late? _I glanced at my digital clock that had, for some reason, miraculously failed to go off- you know, make _noise_, like a digital clock was _supposed_to do. The numbers flashing back at me were not particularly good.

I cursed, stumbling out of bed. Hopping on one foot, I dashed to my clothes drawer, pulling out the first items I saw and throwing them on: a tan sweater and jeans. I didn't care whether they matched or not at this point. I quickly ran a comb through my hair. It was days like these when I was glad my hair was short.

Late on my second day of school. How _typical._

When I was dressed, I grabbed my crutches from where they were leaning against the wall, slung my bag over my back, and left the room. The hallway leading into our dining area was bland and undecorated. I had wanted to hang up some paintings or pictures when we first moved in two weeks ago, but Dad had said no. Maybe he liked the plain-ness.

"Alarm not go off?" my dad asked as I arrived in the kitchen. I shook my head, grabbing a banana from the bowl on the counter. I debated about starting the tea kettle, but eventually decided that there wasn't enough time and I'd have to skip my morning tea for the second day in a row.

"Good thing I wasn't scheduled to work today, or you'd probably have slept until noon." Dad was sitting at the table, his medication and a full bowl of cold cereal beside him. It looked like today was another day void of food for him. No matter how many times I told him it was unhealthy to go without food, he never did listen.

"Probably," I replied shortly, peeling my banana and contemplating the ways I could force him to eat. My dad chuckled weakly, folding his newspaper back up. I noted that he'd been reading the crime section of the paper, as he always did- today the major story was about some statue that had been smashed in the middle of the night. I never understood why weird crime stories fascinated him so much.

Shaking my head, I grabbed his pill from where it had been placed on the table and shoved it in his hand with a glare. He frowned, but took it anyways, popping it in his mouth. I watched him closely until I was certain it had gone down his throat.

"C'mon, I'll drive you. You won't have time to walk at this point." He stood and pulled on his jacket. His cane had been lying by the table, and he scooped it up. Once he told me that he didn't actually need the cane at all- psychosomatic limp, he said- but that he really uses it as an emotional crutch. Poor guy- mum's death had cut him up. It had cut _all_of us up.

Together, we left the house. The drive to my school was short and spent in a miserable silence. I fidgeted in my seat, torn between wanting to talk to him but afraid that doing so would make him more sad than ever. Lately, he had been caught between two moods: a depressed slump, where he wouldn't smile or eat properly for days on end, and then what I called a "Normal Phase", in which he'd try too hard to act happy. This would usually end up throwing him back into his depression, and the cycle would repeat itself, over and over again.

He let me out by the front doors. Thankfully, students were still spilling into the building, meaning that I wouldn't be as late as I thought.

"Bye, Dad," I muttered as I got out of the car. "Have a good day. Eat something."

I think he might have smiled a bit, but he said nothing. I sighed as I watched him drive off. I worried about him _constantly_. My biggest fear would be to come home from school one day only to find out that he'd done the unthinkable. I turned and headed into school, not ready for a new day.

I fought my way through the commons area, heading straight for my locker. I kept my eye out for Hannah, because I remembered what she had told me yesterday about forcing me to meet my locker partner. I didn't want to run into her, in case she kept to that promise. I didn't have time to fend her off this morning.

After fumbling with my locker combination for a brief moment, I finally managed to open it. The jam jars, I noted, were gone. They had been replaced with a plastic bottle full of gelatin. An eraser shaped like an ice cream cone sat in the congealed gelatin, quivering slightly. It made me feel somewhat ill to see.

I shoved my backpack in the locker and extracted my geometry folder and pencil case. I slammed the door shut with my good foot, departing for class.

I made it just in time. The bell rang as soon as I sat down, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

Mr. Barlow, a tall, balding man, looked up from his computer at the full classroom. He adjusted his frameless glasses and stood, striding to the front of the class, papers in hand. "Welcome to another day of geometry."

Everyone groaned in response, obviously unhappy to be here. Mr. Barlow ignored them. "Let's call roll. Jacob Abercrombie?"

"Here," one boy said from the back of the room, raising his hand.

"Abby Bingham?" No response. "Absent..." Mr. Barlow muttered, marking it down on his sheet. It continued like this for nearly five minutes before he dove into today's lesson. I doodled in my note-taking book as he droned on and on about various ways to calculate a triangle's height. I already knew all of this, as my class back in London was much farther ahead.

Suddenly, he halted in the middle of lecturing us on the proper usage of the Pythagorean Theorem, directly in front of my table. The class, roused by his pause, glanced around to see what had distracted him. At first I thought he was looking at me, but thankfully, it was the girl I was sitting next to that he was focused on. She was paying even less attention than I was. In fact, she had completely zoned out.

"Sadie," Mr. Barlow said, a warning tone in his voice. She ignored him, still lost in thought. "_Sadie Hooper!_" This time it was a shout.

She snapped back into reality, looking momentarily surprised. "Yes?"

"Have you been paying attention at all?" Mr. Barlow demanded with a glare, arms folded angrily.

"No," she replied bluntly, with an edge of defiance. Then her eyes fell on the dry-erase marker clutched in his hand, and her mouth fell open in a perfect circle.

The rest of the class sighed, simultaneously rolling their eyes.

"Can I have that marker?" she asked. She started rummaging in her pocket for who knows what.

"No." Mr. Barlow didn't even seem surprised by her odd request. "But you _can _start paying attention."

"I need it." Her gaze was still fixed on the blue marker.

"Why do you need it _this _time? Last week you wanted my magnets. I never did get those back, mind you."

"It's for an experiment." She finally managed to withdraw a tiny vial from her pocket, and she held it up to the light to examine its contents.

"Just give her the damn marker so she'll shut up!" someone yelled from the back of the room.

"No, you can't have the marker!" The teacher was seething by now. The girl stood, almost over-turning the little table we shared. Her fists were clenched in tight balls, nails digging into her palms.

I don't know what came over me just then, but looking back, I know that if I hadn't intervened, something not so good would have occurred.

I snatched my pencil case off my desk and sorted through it quickly until I found a marker identical to the one Mr. Barlow had. Tugging on her arm, I managed to get her attention. Both teacher and student looked down at me, surprised.

"Uh, here," I said, clearing my throat. "You can have my marker."

The girl scrunched her forehead, eyes moving rapidly between my marker and our teacher's. After a short but tense pause, she grabbed the marker from my outstretched fingers grudgingly. Then, without another word, she ran out of the classroom.

My mouth fell open in shock. The rest of the class rolled their eyes in unison for the second time. Mr. Barlow huffed dejectedly.

"You aren't getting that marker back, you know," he said.

"I- That's okay." Which was actually a lie; I did want my marker back.

"Tracy," he called to a student on the opposite side of the room. "Take this down to the attendance office. Tell Mrs. Stringham that we have a runner." Mr. Barlow scribbled something down on a post-it note and handed it to Tracy, a small, mouse-faced boy. He departed and closed the door behind him.

It seemed as if this was a regular occurrence in this class. I, however, was still extremely confused and slightly irritated. _Who does that girl think she is?_I didn't get a thank you or even a simple nod of acknowledgment from her.

However, the class continued on as if nothing had happened.

**0-0-0-0**

Hannah caught up to me at lunch. Today, she had attacked her hair with a flat iron, and it pooled down her back like a golden waterfall. I couldn't help but stare. God, I was such a dork sometimes.

"Liam!" she squealed, dashing up to me in the library. The other students glared at her, but she took no notice. I could feel my face heat up for a reason that I refused to admit was true.

"Um, hey, Hannah," I muttered, shuffling my crutches awkwardly. She giggled and twirled a strand of hair around her short index finger.

"I didn't see you this morning," she whined, face slipping into a little pout. "I was going to introduce you to your locker partner, but I couldn't find you."

"I was late getting to school today." We walked over to a shelf of books, and Hannah began idly flipping through a random one she pulled from the middle. It was about Dalmatians.

"Hmmm, that one's cute," she hummed contently, pointing to a picture of a speckled puppy with ears too big for its body. I shrugged my shoulders. "You can come after school with me to meet your locker partner, if you want."

"Why are you so _eager _for me to meet her?" I wondered out loud. She turned to a section entitled "Grooming Your Adult Dog" and studied the page for a while before answering.

She sighed. "The person you're sharing a locker with is really, um, _different_."

"Yeah, I gathered that from what she keeps in our locker..." I muttered to myself. Hannah laughed.

"Okay, what I mean to say is that she doesn't have any friends."

I gave her a sideways look. "You seem to talk an awful lot about her."

"I _try_, and that's a whole lot more than anyone else does around here." She rolled her eyes. "I just want her to find someone she can actually tolerate."

"And you think I'm that person?" I narrowed my eyes. Hannah bit her lip and turned back to her picture book.

"Well," she said slowly, "I think you have the best chance at getting close to her. She doesn't know you and you don't know her, so it's like you're starting on a clean slate, sort of. And plus, you're her locker partner."

Suddenly, I felt a wave of sadness and frustration wash over me. "So, in other words, you're only being nice to me so I can get you out of talking with this girl?"

Her face fell at my accusation, and I regretted saying what I had just said. Well, kind of.

"No, not at all! I like you, Liam, and I think we should be friends. All I'm asking is that you at least try with her. That's it. Please?"

Her already large brown eyes widened, silently begging me to take on the job.

Should I? From what I'd heard and seen, whoever this girl was seemed really weird. I wasn't sure if I wanted to get involved with this. I mean, it's hard enough trying to make normal friends alone, and this would just be even more difficult.

On the other hand, I firmly believe that everyone deserves a friend, no matter how different they are from the rest of us. And I really did want to impress Hannah. She was cute, I'd admit.

It was a brief internal battle, but I finally slumped my shoulders in defeat and nodded.

Hannah squealed, delighted. Quickly, she engulfed me in a hug that was made awkward by my crutches.

"Thank you so much, Liam," she grinned and pulled away from me. "I owe you one." She pulled out a cell phone from her pocket and checked the time. "Oh, look! We have enough time left of lunch to go talk to her now, if you want."

I smiled weakly. "Sure."

"Great." Hannah closed her Dalmatian book and replaced it on the shelf. "I think she's in the science room, dissecting a cat or something. Let's go."

Oh, God. _What had I gotten myself into this time?_

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**_Author's Note: _Wow, thank you all for reading and reviewing the last chapter. I wasn't expecting to get that big of a response! I appreciate it so much. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm excited to post the next one. **

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	3. I Get Landed in Eighth Grade Prison

**Chapter 3: I Get Landed in Eighth Grade Prison**

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The science classroom wasn't anything unusual, necessarily. In fact, it appeared to be like any other typical science class. It was a large room, with twelve or so tables in one corner, each seating two people. A white board covered the majority of one wall. The remaining wall space had been covered in posters of cartoon nuclei with lame sayings, such as, _"I wanted to make a chemistry joke... But all the good ones Argon!" _and other knee-slappers like that.

The other side of the room was a collection of lab stations and old science equipment. I made a mental note not to go near the gas outlets- they looked like they could erupt in flames at any moment. Stray Bunsen burners littered the counters. One had been turned on, but was currently being neglected. Various test tubes of liquid had been awkwardly balanced in an ice cube tray.

A large pile of blood and fur was currently placed on a dissecting plate next to a microscope. I assumed this was the cat my locker partner was in the process of taking apart. My stomach started churning by the time the smell hit me. I forced myself to look away.

"Hmm..." Hannah mused, doing a quick twirl to assess the room. "She must've gone out for a minute."

It was true- the lab was vacant. This girl, whoever she was, clearly wasn't here. Though I wouldn't admit it out loud, I was glad meeting her would be postponed yet again.

That is, until Hannah suggested that we go and find her.

Yeah, let's go hunt down an apparent _psychopath_. That sounds like a grand old time.

I declined, making up a lame excuse that my leg was tired.

"Oh," she frowned. "Why don't you sit down? I'll go find her and bring her back." And with that, she danced out of the room.

Okay, the bell will ring soon. There's no way Hannah will come back by then. I'd just wait here until lunch is over and leave. I could tell her that I was afraid of being late for class- which was partially true- and that I had to leave so I wouldn't get in trouble.

It all worked out perfectly in my mind.

And then, of course, the science teacher just _had_to walk in the room and see me sitting there for no good reason.

"Again!" she shouted, orange curls bouncing angrily. I leapt off my seat, scrambling to grab my crutches. "I am so _sick_of students in here during the lunch hour. This is an off limits area, for heaven's sake!"

"I-I'm sorry!" I stammered in apology. "I didn't know. See, I'm new here-"

"So, what? You thought it'd be a good idea just to waltz into any class you like, even though there's a sign that states 'no students during the lunch hour?"

I scrunched my brow in confusion. Sign? What sign?

As if in answer to my silent question, the teacher pointed a chubby finger at a large cardboard sign that did indeed state 'NO STUDENTS DURING LUNCH HOUR'. Huh.

"Principal's office," she spat. "_Now_."

**0-0-0-0**

I was muttering a string of curses under my breath as I marched the long hall to Mr. Harrison's office. The bell rang nearly three minutes ago, and only a few last minute stragglers were still rushing to class. That was good. The less people to see my walk of shame, the better.

I, however, was in no rush to arrive at my destination. Never once had I been sent to the principal's office, except to receive an award for my academic skill or something like that. But this was entirely different.

And it was all Hannah's fault.

I suppose I couldn't blame her too harshly for this, though. I mean, it wasn't like she purposefully left me there to get in trouble. It was just an accident.

Still, I felt a certain kind of annoyance at her for this.

Tentatively, I knocked on the cheap wooden door with a gaudy brass plate on it. Someone had scribbled out where "Mr. Harrison's Office" had been engraved into the metal and had written above it in permanent marker, "The Chamber of Secrets, enemies of Harrison, beware."

I scoffed at the Harry Potter reference- they had spelled chamber wrong- and waited for what felt like my death sentence to be announced.

I could hear footsteps and mumbled conversation inside the office. Unfortunately, it was muddled to the point where I couldn't quite make out what the occupants were saying.

Wait, why was that unfortunate? I wasn't an eavesdropper by any means. Must be the lack of caffeine messing with my brain.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. After an eternity, the quick paced footsteps drew near to the door and it swung open.

"Hello there, young man!" the principal greeted me. His friendliness was flat out weird- I'd never had a nice principal before. All the previous ones were cold and distant. But I could tell he was different just by looking at him.

Mr. Harrison was a short, jovial man with a kind smile that actually reached his eyes. He wore a slightly rumpled gray suit that matched his salt and pepper hair. He stepped back and allowed me entrance into his office, gesturing for me to take a seat.

"One moment, please," he told me. "I just need to finish my meeting with Mr. Drebber here, and I'll be right back." Mr. Harrison waved a hand at the other man in the room, who I hadn't noticed up until this point. I had been too preoccupied worrying about my punishment, but now that I was starting to relax in the warm atmosphere of this office, I realized that I'd been stupid to not register that there were two people in here. After all, I had heard a conversation while I was waiting outside, and it'd be silly if the principal had been talking to himself.

Mr. Harrison turned to the other guy, who I couldn't quite see, as he was half hidden in the shadow the open door had cast. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, and I look forward to you joining our staff."

Mr. Drebber stepped out from the corner and I saw him clearly for the first time.

Let's get this straight: the guy scared the _hell _out of me.

I don't know why I felt such a sudden wave of fear wash over me, because if you just glanced at him, he looked average.

But when you look directly into his somewhat-droopy and over-large eyes, you see the eyes of the devil. He was like one of those little snakes; harmless at first glance, until they lash out and bite your face off.

And that's what it was like seeing Mr. Drebber- _bloody terrifying_.

I opened my mouth to say something- _what_exactly, I wasn't sure. Maybe a cordial "Hello", or perhaps a nice "You have demonic eyes", or even just a girlish scream.

Anyways, that's not important. All I could get out was a small strangled noise. His stare was petrifying. I was afraid I'd be turned into stone or something. He was like... Oh, what's her name? You know, the crazy lady with the snake hair? Yeah, her.

The two men shook hands, though Mr. Drebber's gaze never left me. It was _so_unnerving.

"Yes," he finally said, in a funny accent. It was strange- over animated, changing pitch rapidly, just within that one word. "It was _such_a pleasure."

"Can I show you out?" the principal asked politely.

Mr. Drebber smiled- well, smirked- and shook his head. "I'll leave you to attend to this boy here. Thank you, though."

"Of course. Goodbye, Mr. Drebber."

"Until next time, Mr. Harrison," Mr. Drebber said. "And good-day to you as well, Liam." With a nod in my befuddled direction, he swiftly exited the room, whistling some song from the eighties that my dad hates.

I hadn't told him my name.  
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Detention. Two hours. After school.

Mr. Harrison was kind enough, giving me a stern, calm lecture about why students shouldn't be in out-of-bounds areas, especially in dangerous ones, such as the science lab. You know, because I have _no_idea how to handle myself in a science lab. Who knows? I might have suddenly started raving like a mad-man, flailing around and knocking over beakers and whatnot.

That was sarcasm, by the way.

I actually thought I'd get off with just a warning, but apparently, he wasn't _that_lenient. He let me leave the office with a packet of gumdrops and an order to report to room 122 after school.

I trudged through the rest of the day, imagining the horrors of detention. I'd never had detention, of course, so I had no idea what to expect. Are beatings allowed in American public schools? I doubted it.

When the last bell rang, everyone rushed out of the school like they had the previous day. I would have been glad to go with them. Instead, I packed up my belongings, ignored the strange plantlike substance now growing in my locker, and set off for room 122.

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Room one-hundred and twenty-two was at the very end of a hallway on the opposite side of the school. I swear, I had to consult the crumpled map I received yesterday at least ten times in order to find it. You'd think they would put the detention room in a more accessible place, but I suppose they didn't want the delinquents mixing with the good kids too much.

I nudged the door open with my shoulder, clutching the note the principal gave me tightly in my shaking hand. The room was full of kids. A few people looked up when I entered, surprise flickering on their faces. Ignoring the giggling girls nearest the door, I hobbled on my crutches to the advisor's desk. The advisor, Ms. Greenwich, barely glanced at me when I gave her the yellow slip of paper. She waved me away with the hand that wasn't holding the yellowing romance novel that she was currently immersed in. I sighed and turned, scanning the room for an empty desk.

I spotted one by a girl who had dissolved into angry tears, but when I started in her direction, she shot me a glare that clearly told me to stay away, or she would slice off my arm. Not wanting to be critically injured, I heeded her threat and quickly made my way over the only other empty desk in the classroom, near the back of the room.

I dropped my backpack and kicked it under the desk, laying my crutches beside my seat. I had a few sheets of homework, but I didn't really feel like doing those right now- it was way too noisy to concentrate. I wished I had grabbed a book or something out of my locker. Vaguely, I wondered if Ms. Greenwich would allow me to go get one.

"She won't," a quiet voice said from the desk beside me. I jumped and whipped my head around to see who had spoken to me.

It was the marker girl, Sadie something-or-another.

"You!" I exclaimed. "I-I…" I was taken aback. I hadn't expected to see her here.

She scrutinized me, light blue eyes narrowed, probably thinking I was an idiot or something. "Yes, obviously."

I cleared my throat and finally managed to get some semi-intelligent words out. "You stole my marker this morning."

"Wrong. You gave me the marker," she sniffed. "There's a difference between stealing and taking something given to you."

"Can I at least have it back?"

She shrugged and pulled a plastic sandwich bag out of her messenger bag. In it contained the shattered remains of my blue marker. Ink pooled at the bottom like navy-colored blood. She tossed it on my desk.

I glanced rapidly between her expressionless face and the destroyed marker. "What did you do to it?" Gingerly, I scooped up the plastic bag and held it reverently in my hands. Poor thing- it had been new, never before used.

"I extracted the ink." She twirled a pencil in her fingers. I wondered how long that particular writing utensil had left before she annihilated it as well.

"Why?" I leaned over and unzipped my backpack, double checked that it was sealed tightly, and nestled it in between my folders. I'd give it a proper burial when I got home.

"Unimportant," she snapped with a glare.

"Right…" I muttered. That was the last time I let this girl borrow any of my stuff. "What're you in here for?"

She hesitated, probably wondering why I was still making an effort to talk to her after she'd destroyed my property and then been rude to me about it. "I ditched class. You were there."

"Oh, yes, of course. My name is Liam Watson, by the way." I stuck out my hand for her to shake. She didn't take it.

"I'm aware." Yep, she was definitely rude, that's for sure.

"What's your name, then?" I pressed, folding my hands on my lap awkwardly. She considered me for a brief moment.

"Sadie Hooper." She smirked, setting her pencil to the side and turned to face me better. "Your dad, he's a doctor, isn't he?"

"What? Yeah," I said, completely bewildered. "How did you know that?"

Okay, this next bit is no exaggeration. This is honestly what she said to me, word for word.

"Recently moved from London…" She tilted her head to the side. "Your mother had cancer. She died about five months ago, give or take, but not from the cancer. I'm assuming you broke your leg in the same car crash that killed her? Shattered the bone from the thigh down… Prior to the accident, which was caused by a drunk driver, you were on some sort of swim team. Your dad is on depression medication for the second time, and you worry about him constantly-"

"Woah!" I said, holding my hands out to make her stop talking. She looked irritated from being interrupted, but I didn't care. "How the _hell_ did you know all of that?"

"You paint, too, though you aren't particularly good. Don't swear, and don't interrupt me next time. It's bad manners." Her smirk returned in full, obviously pleased with having confused me. "Did I get everything correct?"

"Well, yes, but-" I started to say.

"I thought so," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

"Don't interrupt," I muttered, mimicking her. "It's rude."

At that, she actually smiled. Not a smirk, but an actual smile.

"You have a pin on your bag; it's a pink ribbon. Obviously, you aren't afraid to display it, showing that it was someone close to you who had cancer. Likely your mother, as you still live with your father. The pin on your bag is approximately eight months old, as it is a new design that was released last May. It is also your first pin, judging from the lack of other pin holes on your backpack. Clearly, she was diagnosed then, but three months is nowhere near enough time to die from the cancer, unless it was a rare form, which it was not. She died in the car crash that broke your leg." She said all of that so quickly, it was difficult to keep up.

"Okay," I said slowly. How she had managed to figure all that out from a pin was beyond my comprehension. "How did you know about the car crash?"

"Your leg was shattered by the impact of something extremely heavy around five months prior to you moving here, judging by how much your leg has healed already. The logical answer would be a vehicle, as it is the most common thing that could provide such force as to shatter bone. However, if the crash was that powerful, you would have sustained other injuries, perhaps more serious ones. Someone, or something, had stopped you from receiving the full impact. A mother's instinct is to protect her children, especially considering you were her only child. She would have died immediately."

I nodded, trying to understand her train of thought. It was starting to make more sense now. "And how did you figure it was a drunk driver?"

"The sticker on your geometry folder is against drunk driving," she explained. "That bit was easy, as well as telling that you were on a swim team. Your body structure is one of a swimmer, but the muscles have weakened in the time away from the water. Simple."

"Wow. That was impressive, very impressive," I praised, still shocked that she had figured all of that out. "But you haven't explained how you knew my dad is a doctor."

"My mother works at the hospital. She told me." Sadie shrugged and picked her pencil up again, doodling on the desk surface.

We fell silent. Me, well, _I_ was still going over what she had said in my head. She was chewing on the end of her pencil, lost in thought. I glanced at the clock; still ninety minutes left until we were released from this prison. The other people in the room were chattering away, ignoring the teacher's haughty stare as she sneered at them for interrupting her novel.

I took the time to examine Sadie. She was… interesting looking, I guess. I don't know… She had shoulder-length, reddish hair. As I already mentioned, her eyes were a pale blue, but on closer examination, I noted that they had specks of light grey in them as well. Her cheekbones were startlingly high. Um, I guess she had a nice facial structure, but it was more adult-like than teenager-like. She had absolutely no curves to speak of, not that I was looking or anything. And she was skinny- _way_ too skinny. Like, _unhealthily skinny_.

Unfortunately, she caught me studying her.

"What are you staring at, William?" she snapped. I murmured some weak apology, and she turned away again.

An hour and a quarter left to go before freedom.

I wondered what my dad was doing. Probably sleeping. Or moping. But definitely not eating- that was for sure. I ran over a list of ways to make him eat in my head; most of the ideas I came up with wouldn't work.

Next to me, Sadie pulled a tattered paper-back out of her black messenger bag. Discretely, I glanced at the title- something about musical theories or styles, I don't know, but it sounded boring. Maybe she played an instrument.

Sixty minutes.

I dug around in my backpack for a bit, looking for something to do. I had hoped I'd remembered my iPod, but came up short. I did find a handful of pennies and a half-eaten granola bar, however.

Sadie flung her book to the floor with an angry sigh. "Boring."

I took that as an opportunity to talk to her. "What's it about?"

"It's about the ways Beethoven wrote his music. It was my dad's copy, but he never read it himself. Like I said, boring."

"What's your family like?" I asked, trying to start up a conversation.

She paused, thinking. "None of your business."

I recoiled like I'd been slapped. It was just a question…

Forty minutes to go.

I fidgeted in my seat. I contemplated eating the rest of the granola bar I'd found, but I had no idea how long it'd been sitting in there. It probably wasn't worth getting food poisoning over, so I shunted the idea.

"You aren't going to get sick from a granola bar," Sadie piped up. "Too many preservatives. It's probably stale though; I wouldn't recommend consuming it."

"How did you know I was thinking that?"

She rolled her eyes, as if the answer to my question should have been obvious. "You glanced down at your backpack, and I saw you pull the granola bar out earlier. It wasn't a difficult leap to make that you were thinking of eating it."

"Do you want it?" I reached to pull it out. She made a face of disgust.

"I only eat on Mondays and Thursdays." That would explain how skinny she is, I guess.

Before I could voice my opinion on how unhealthy that was, she cut me off. "Yes, I know it isn't healthy. You don't need to tell me things I already know."

Twenty minutes left. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. Sadie copied my action, except she closed her eyes.

I could feel the tension in the room grow as the time to leave drew nearer. Practically everyone had their gaze fixed on the clock, including the teacher, who had set aside her book. It was like they were trying to will the time to move faster, but it seemed to slow down just to spite everyone.

When the time ticked down to five minutes, there was a synchronized movement as everyone bent down to pack up their belongings. At three minutes, the class moved to stand by the door. Sadie remained seated. I wondered if she had fallen asleep. I stretched out a hesitant hand to tap her shoulder and wake her up, but her own fingers moved like lightning and caught my wrist before I could touch her. I backed away just as the clock struck 4 PM. The crowd of students rushed out the door. I thought about staying and walking with Sadie, but changed my mind at the last minute and hobbled after the mass of people.

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**_Author's Note:_ Whew, that was a long chapter- nine complete pages on Microsoft Word. The next chapter will contain more John, I promise. And don't worry- things will improve for our beloved army doctor in the chapters to come.**

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Please leave a comment telling me what you thought about this chapter.**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	4. Poisonous Plants Aren't Good Decorations

**Chapter 4- Poisonous Plants Aren't Good Decorations**

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By the time I made it home, the sun was already in the process of setting and the first few stars were beginning to peak through on the horizon. The sky was streaked a beautiful, pinky-orange that reflected on the snow covered ground. I used to love the snow when I was a kid- Mum and I would go to the park and have snowball fights every year at the first snowfall.

Now, the cold, white flakes only made me sad.

I fished my house key out of my backpack and entered the house. I kicked my shoes off near the front door, removed my jacket, and wandered around to find my father.

"Dad?" I called out. No response. I stuck my head in the kitchen and groaned. "Not again..."

He was slumped at the dining table, forehead plunked down on the smooth, oak surface. An untouched cup of coffee was next to him, in danger of tipping off the table and spilling on the floor.

I made my way over to him and pushed the cup further in the middle. Then, I pulled a chair over and sat next to him. I took up his hand and squeezed it. He turned his head slightly to look at me.

He'd been crying again. Tear tracks had dried on his face, dripping down his hollow cheeks. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever.

"Dad," I prompted, gently. He sat up straight and cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Do you think it's time to get you psychiatric help? I'd go with you to the appointments, if you want," I said, but I already knew the answer.

"No, no," he replied. "I'm fine, William."

"What set you off tonight?" I asked.

He sighed sadly and stood up, grabbing his cane from where it was leaning against the counter.

"I... It's nothing." He opened the refrigerator door and peered inside at the contents. "We're out of milk."

"_Dad_," I warned, frowning. "It was obviously something. Tell me."

"Alright, alright. I heard violin music today." He pulled a loaf of bread out of the fridge. "Why is the bread in the fridge? Bread doesn't belong in the fridge."

I stepped over and took the loaf from his hands. "You were the last to unload the shopping. You tell me. Hungry?"

He shrugged. I tossed the bread on the counter and gathered the rest of the ingredients for sandwiches. I switched the tea kettle on and got out tea bags and cups.

"So, what did the violin music do to make you so upset?" I asked him casually. He was quiet for a minute.

"I don't like violin music. And I don't want mustard on my sandwich," he said, reaching out and taking the bottle away from me.

"Since when do you not want mustard?"

"Since today." He opened the refrigerator again and rummaged until he found a jar of strawberry jam.

I made a noise of disgust. "How can you _stand_eating jam? It's repulsive."

He paused with the spoon still stuck in his mouth. "It's good."

I hummed in response. "How was your day, then? Aside from the violin music you took exception to, of course."

"It was good. Yes, good. Great, actually." He sat down at the table again, still eating jam straight from the jar.

"Do you want some bread with that jam? Or, I don't know, a muffin?" I pulled two plates out from the cupboard and transferred the sandwiches I'd made onto them. Dad shook his head. I handed him a plate and a cup of tea and sat down across from him.

"How was your day?" he asked me, setting his jam aside and sipping out of his tea cup.

I shrugged my shoulders, picking at my sandwich half-heartedly. "I got detention."

He jerked his head up to look at me, almost dropping his tea cup. "_Detention_?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "A teacher caught me out of bounds. I tried telling her I didn't know the rules yet, but she didn't listen."

"Huh," Dad said. "Well, have you made any friends yet?" I sighed, relieved that he'd changed the subject.

"Yeah, a couple. Hannah Elliot's nice." I tried to keep my tone casual.

"Oh? A girl?" I think he might've smiled, but maybe I was just imagining it. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Why the tone of surprise?" I grumbled. "In fact, I've made friends with two girls. Well, kind of."

"What do you mean by 'kind of'?" he asked over another spoonful of jam.

"I met this other girl, Sadie, in detention. I tried being nice to her, but she doesn't seem to like me very much." I tossed the crust from my sandwich in the trash and placed my plate in the dishwasher. I pointed a finger at my dad's untouched sandwich, and grudgingly, he finally started to eat it.

A stray thought crossed my mind when I glanced into the sitting room. "Hey, Dad?" I asked. He grunted in response. "If you don't like violins, why do we have one above the fireplace?"

Wrong thing to ask, apparently. His eyes clouded over- he got that sad look again, the same one that I couldn't stand seeing.

"N-never mind," I quickly stammered, sorting quickly through my head to find a new topic to talk about. "Do you want cookies tonight? I can make cookies." I scrambled to the cupboard and grabbed a mixing bowl.

Dad snapped out of it and stood abruptly, leaving the kitchen and going to his bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him.

I dropped the bowl and slowly sunk until I was sitting on the tile. I reclined against the counter and let out a mournful sigh. God, I was so _stupid_ sometimes.  
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Dad had gone to work already when I woke up the next day. He was probably desperate to get out of the house. I didn't blame him. I was still berating myself over the stupid question I'd stupidly asked him last night.

I skipped breakfast- I wasn't in the mood to eat anything- and left for school early. The sun was shining through the clouds today, and it was actually a pleasantly uneventful walk. I guess I won't go into much detail about it, because it wasn't very exciting. Not worth writing about.

Anyways, I arrived at school before most of the other students. I headed to grab my belongings from my locker. Apparently, my locker partner wasn't here yet, going off the fact that her bag was absent from the locker. I had plans to avoid Hannah at all costs- I was in no mood to meet this girl.

I hung my bag up on my designated hook and gathered a couple of books, along with the homework I'd failed to complete last night. Maybe the library was open and I could finish it before school starts. I kicked the door shut and set off. At least I didn't need my map to find the library- I'd been there enough times already that I practically had the route memorized.

I'd just begun to round the corner that led to my destination, when I ran into Sadie from detention- _literally._ Well, more of she happened to dash around the corner at the same time I did and slammed into me. We both toppled over, my crutches flying out of my grasp. My head knocked hard against the carpeted floor, and before you ask, yes, it hurt. I was surprised I didn't get a concussion from the impact.

A tall figure loomed over from where I lay on the floor and offered a hand. I took it gratefully, and Sadie helped me stand. She handed me my crutches with a semi-apologetic look. I say semi, because the next words out of her mouth were extremely accusatory.

"Do watch where you're going next time, William." She rolled her eyes. I opened my mouth to retort, but she suddenly wasn't there anymore. I whipped my head around, only to find that she was crouched down, examining a muddy footprint. Sadie cursed under her breath and straightened back up, turning in a slow circle, studying the walls intently.

I approached her cautiously, partially to see if she'd sustained any injuries from our collision, but mostly because I was curious as to why she had been running so quickly. She appeared to be in fine health, at least as far as I could tell- the only medical knowledge I had was from living with my dad.

"Sadie, what the _hell _was that all about?" I asked incredulously, still irritated that she'd accused me of running into her when it obviously was the other way around.

"Don't swear," she muttered, still studying the walls. I waited for further elaboration, but it didn't seem like she was going to say anything else.

"Why on earth were you running, then?" I prompted. "There, is that better?"

She stopped spinning and stared directly at me, eyes narrowed. "Has anyone ran past here in the last five or so minutes?"

"Um, no, not that I've noticed. Why?"

"I was _so _close," she groaned, more to herself than to me. "Two weeks of effort, all _gone_. Great, just _great_." She turned on her heel and marched down the hall, stopping at a locker. I followed her, still wondering what she was on about.

It was my locker she'd stopped at.

"Hey!" I shouted, hurrying up my pace. "That's my locker! What do you think you're doing?" She gave me a scathing look and finished entering in the combination.

"Really, Liam, don't be daft. Surely you've figured out by now that we share this locker?" The metal door swung open and she tucked her black messenger bag inside.

"O-oh, right." My face heated up, turning a furious red. I guess it made sense- weird girl, weird locker contents. I remembered my promise to Hannah, how I had to try and make friends with her. Oh, good. This was going to be fun… _Not._

Sadie's face fell into an angry frown and she turned on me. "Did you move the _Conium maculatum_?"

"The _what_?" I must've given her a strange look, because yet again, she rolled her eyes.

"Hemlock, _obviously_, the plant that was growing in here last night. Where is it and what have you done with it?" She started rifling through the shelves, probably hoping it was hiding behind a book or something.

"I hav- Wait, _hemlock_? Isn't that poisonous?" Like, _deadly _poisonous? But I didn't say that bit out loud.

She exhaled sharply from her nose, stepping back from the locker. "No, you didn't take it. _Damn._ Where did it go, then?"

"I dunno, maybe the administration took it." I was actually really glad it was gone- I didn't care who had taken it, I was just happy it was away from me. Funny enough, being poisoned wasn't something on my bucket list.

Sadie quickly shot down that suggestion down with a flustered wave of her hand. "They're too dim to have done anything like that. Do you know how long it took me to acquire that specimen? _Weeks,_ Liam; _weeks._ And then my mother wouldn't let me keep it at home, so I brought it here where I thought it'd be safe, but now it's gone. Plants can't just grow legs and walk away."

"Put an ad in the paper, then," I put in, but hopefully, it wouldn't turn up again. "You never did explain why you were running earlier."

"Oh, that," she muttered, "I was chasing a suspect from the case I'm in the middle of."

"What suspect? What case?" I asked, confused.

She gave me a look that, from now on, I'll just call _'The Look'_. There really was no other way to explain her expression. Though I barely knew this girl, I could tell it was a look that frequented her face often. It clearly told me that I was being stupid and should shut up.

"Have you read about the smashed marble statues that have been popping up around town lately?" she explained. I nodded, remembering the article I'd briefly glanced at yesterday morning. "I'm trying to catch who's behind it all, but it's proving more difficult than I expected."

"What are you, some sort of wannabe detective?" I teased, laughing. I guess she didn't take teasing well, because _'The Look'_ graced her face again. I stopped laughing.

"Doesn't matter," she said with a careless tone. "Laugh if you want. They all do."

"I'm sorry, Sadie," I said, and I meant it, too. Keeping my promise to Hannah was harder than I thought it'd be. Sadie shrugged. "Uh, do you want to go to the library with me? I was headed there before, you know-"

"Library's closed," she interrupted. "You should have finished your homework last night."

How did she know that?

"Well, did you finish yours?" I tried to defend myself, though I probably sounded like a whiny five-year old.

"Nope." She smirked. "I never do. It's a waste of time, in my opinion."

"I have a grade-point average to maintain, thank you very much." I shifted on my crutches. "Want to go to class, then?"

"Why are you talking to me?" she snapped. I recoiled.

"Would you rather I didn't?" I felt a little hurt, to be honest.

She softened her tone slightly. "Most people stop talking to me within five minutes of meeting me. What makes _you_ so different?"

"I-I'm just trying to make friends, that's all." I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Hannah put you up to this, didn't she?"

"Yeah," I admitted. Well, there goes any chance of Hannah ever liking me back. "I'm sorry. But you are interesting."

"You don't need to lie to me," Sadie said without emotion. "It's fine, really."

"No, I'm not lying!" I said, hastily- maybe _too_ hastily, because she gave me _'The Look'_ again. "That thing you did yesterday, where you knew all about me from a pin on my bag? That was really cool."

She eyed me warily. "You're different from the others, Liam. I like it." Before I could say anything else to her, she shut the locker and walked away.

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_**Author's Note: **_**I cannot believe the feedback I've been getting on this. You guys are great! I appreciate each of you so much.**

**Here are some future plot points to look forward to:**

**-Molly Hooper**

**-Shopping with John**

**-Staking out the school building**

**-"My English teacher wants to kill me"**

**-Why is there a crippled hobbit standing on our front porch?**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	5. I Have a Super Secret Admirer

**Chapter 5: I Have a Super Secret Admirer**

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Sadie didn't show up for geometry class. Nor did she make an appearance in geography, biology, or English. I kept my eye out for her during lunch, but again, she wasn't there. Today, Hannah caught me before I could escape to the library and made me sit with her friends at their lunch table.

Her friends were a cheerful bunch. They all made an effort to include me in the conversation, which was a nice gesture; but really, I would have preferred solitude amongst the books in the library. By the end of the lunch hour, I smelt strongly of perfume. My left hand had been doodled on by a girl whose name I didn't catch, and I received at least three different offers to hang out with the group.

Before my next class (which is cooking, if any of you are interested), I slipped into the bathrooms to furiously scrub the marker off my hand.

When school let out, I was thrilled that I didn't have detention again. I opened my locker to the usual disarray of books and beakers, which had seemingly doubled in the past six hours. Sadie was still at the school, then, obviously skipping class. I wondered how she managed to do that without getting caught by the administration. Her black bag and coat were neatly hung on the hooks next to my own school bag.

I unzipped my backpack and began filling it with my books. I_ really _needed to get caught up on my homework tonight- I could just feel my perfect grade average that I'd worked so hard to maintain slipping down the drain with every neglected assignment.

Something fluttered out of my geometry book as I tried shoving it in the crammed bag, which was weird, as I couldn't remember sticking any notes in there. Confused, I bent over and snatched it up.

It was a plain, white envelope that had been sealed. I flipped it over. The front read "_Mr. William Sherlock Watson_", in large, airy letters. I bit my bottom lip. I'd never told anyone my middle name before, and aside from my legal and school records, I was fairly certain that my dad and I were the only people still alive that even knew it.

Cautiously, I slit the top open with my fingernail. Then, I flipped it upside down and shook out the contents: a single piece of grey stationary, neatly folded in half.

I unfolded it.

_Dear Mr. Watson,_

_If you go buy milk tonight, you'll find a big surprise- Just a friendly notification. Bring Daddy along as well._

_Love,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

All in all, it was the weirdest thing I've ever seen in my life- and I've seen some pretty strange things. Yes, it even tops the time my dad broke down crying when I told him I was doing a report on Switzerland in grade four.

I was (and still am, even as I write this) thoroughly creeped out and a bit fearful for my life. I thought Sadie was behind it for a minute, but the events that took place after the discovery of the note proved that theory wrong.

There I was, letter still clutched in my hand, face contorted in a worried grimace, when I felt a sudden force tear the paper out of my hand.

"What's this?" Sadie, who had seemingly appeared out of thin air, asked. She scanned it over briefly, lips pursed.

"I- I don't know. I found it shoved inside my book a few minutes ago," I explained, trying in vain to take the paper back. She shoved me away, giving me _'The Look' _for about the fifth time today. She quickly examined the stationary, ignoring my protests.

"Canadian made paper," she announced. "Written with a ball point pen by a right-handed female who clearly was in no rush. Placed in the envelope nearly four- no, _three _hours ago, and was moved into your geometry book soon after. Before you ask, it obviously wasn't by my doing."

She handed me the letter, and I stuck it back in the envelope. "I'm not even going to bother asking how you knew all that," I grumbled, tossing the resealed envelope in my backpack. "Where were you today?"

She didn't answer. I glanced at her, but she was intently studying a scrap of paper she'd pulled out of her pocket. "Sadie?" I prompted.

"Hm?" she replied. "What did you say?"

"I asked where you were earlier today." I finished packing my books and, with some difficulty, zipped up my bag. Then, I moved aside so she could get her own stuff out.

"I was in the field behind the school," she explained, swinging her messenger bag over her shoulder. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Just wondering why you weren't in class. Mr. Barlow assigned us a project. He said we have to work with the other person at our table and create a presentation about the history of geometricians."

"I suppose we have to work together, in that case." She pulled out her mobile phone and typed in a quick text message.

"I guess," I said. "If you'd rather work with someone else, we can talk to him about it."

I'm not sure what I was hoping she'd say. I mean, I did want to learn more about her, and there was still the promise I made to Hannah that I had to fulfill. But on the other hand, I wasn't sure if I wanted to put up with her outside of school, and this project definitely required work outside of class.

"No," she finally said after a moment of thought. "It's fine. We can work together on it."

Just then, a loud squeal interrupted our conversation. Sadie sighed in irritation as Hannah dashed up to us, dressed in a cheerleading uniform. "Liam!" she singsonged. "Sadie! You two met!"

Hannah was all smiles and sunshine, where Sadie looked as if she wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between the blonde and herself as possible. I couldn't help but smirk slightly at the awkward look that crossed the taller girl's face. These two were like polar opposites.

"Hey, Hannah." I smiled awkwardly. She erupted in a fit of giggles.

"Sorry, I just can't stop laughing. You two are so cute together," she said, practically bouncing up and down.

I snorted at her remark. Sadie rolled her eyes. "What was it this time? Coffee? Energy drinks?"

"Braden let me have some of his Red Bull," she admitted. "In my defense, though, it was because I needed something to pep me up before the basketball game."

"I told you to stay away from caffeine," Sadie glowered, still annoyed.

"And I told you to stop living off of chewing gum," Hannah said sternly. Sadie scoffed. "Anyways, I have to get over to the game. Don't want to be late again. See you two later!"

Hannah skipped off, heading towards the school gym. I watched her go. She was so cute... I lost myself in thought for a moment, but you probably don't care about that, so I'll skip that bit.

I turned back to talk to Sadie again, but she'd disappeared as well. How long had I been spaced out? Long enough for her to make her escape, apparently.

I frowned, but shrugged it off. Sadie Hooper was an interesting person, that was for sure.

Any thought of the strange letter had pretty much left my mind by then, but looking back, I should have listened to nagging little voice telling me that, maybe, all was not as well as I'd believed.  
><strong><br>0-0-0-0**

Dad was still at the surgery by the time I got home that evening. I glanced at the clock. It was only two-thirty. His shift ended at three-thirty, which gave me about an hour of free time before he came back.

A note was scrawled on the notepad by the telephone. _'Grocery shopping tonight,'_ it read. _'Please make list of what we need.'_

I sighed. I hoped he wasn't still mad at me over what happened last night. Quickly, I checked the cupboards and fridge, writing down everything that we were out of on a spare piece of paper: milk, bread, jam, butter... The list went on. It's funny how quickly two people could go through food, especially considering that one of those two hardly ever ate.

When I'd finished that task, I plopped myself down at the kitchen table and snatched my English textbook out of my school bag. It was all about correct comma usage- simple. I completed it in less than ten minutes.

Slowly, I worked my way through the rest of my mountain of homework. Meticulously, I filed each paper into my folder according to my class schedule. That's one thing I loved to hate and hated to love about myself: I'm very, very perfectionistic about everything. Maybe that's why I became so stressed out every time I opened our locker.

At precisely three-thirty five, I heard my dad pull the car into the garage. The door opened, but I didn't look up as he entered the dining room, afraid that he'd still be upset with me.

He cleared his throat. I looked at him from the corners of my eyes. He was examining my shopping list. "Thanks for writing this," he said at last. His tone was gentle, apologetic.

"You're welcome." I completed my final geometry problem and set my pencil down.

Dad smoothed his sandy hair down. It was the same color as mine. "I-I'm sorry about my episode last night. I shouldn't take things out on you. You didn't know."

"It's fine. I won't ask stuff like that again."

He exhaled, probably glad that we'd gotten the awkward apologies over with. "Want to go get the shopping with me, then?"

"Um, yeah. Now?" I asked. He nodded. "Okay, let me just get my jacket on."

"I'll be in the car."

And he left.

Again, I really wished I'd remembered the note I'd gotten earlier. It would have saved both of us a lot of trouble.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

_**Author's Note:**_**This probably isn't my best chapter. I apologize about that. The next one will be much better, I promise.**

**Future plot points:**

**-Shopping with Molly Hooper**  
><strong>-"His black coat swirled as he dashed from the aisle, Sadie close on his heels..."<strong>  
><strong>-"Why is there a crippled hobbit on our front porch?"<strong>  
><strong>-Staking out the school building<strong>  
><strong>-"My English teacher wants to kill me."<strong>  
><strong>-The Second Final Confrontation<strong>

**I thank all of you so much for the outstanding feedback I've received. Even though I'm too lazy to respond personally to each of you, just know that I appreciate you all. Really, it means so much.**

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	6. Grocery Shopping with Miss Molly Hooper

**Chapter 6: Grocery Shopping with Miss Molly Hooper**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

"Hmmm," Dad mused, scanning over our shopping list. "Tuna. Grapes. Why aren't they on here? We need grapes."

I sighed and tugged the scrap of paper away from him. "Dad, _you_ don't like grapes, _I _don't like grapes; we don't need grapes." I studied the list again. "And we don't need tuna, either."

He scrunched his eyebrows and riffled through our shopping basket. "I guess we don't need these jelly beans, then." He put them back on the wrong shelf, and we walked farther down the aisle to the jam section. "They have so many flavors... Which to pick?"

Dad handed me the basket and picked up a jar of apricot and a jar of raspberry. After a moment of careful consideration, he decided, "I'll get both," and he put them in with the milk and the butter. "And I'll get the strawberry, too." I rolled my eyes. Him and his jam... It was an addiction.

"Where would the bread be?" he wondered aloud when he finally chose the right brand of seedless strawberry jam.

"Probably in the bread aisle," I put in. He elbowed me in the side. I'm not sure why, but this was the most cheerful he'd been in months. He was joking, teasing, laughing- and mostly, he was smiling.

And that alone made the torture of shopping worth it.

"Very helpful, Liam," he chuckled. "Where is the bread aisle?"

"Um, I think it's over that way." I used my crutch to point towards the back of the grocery store. We changed directions, now heading towards the elusive bread aisle.

Dad's limp wasn't as bad as usual today. In fact, he was hardly leaning on his cane. I hoped that meant he was finally getting better, but then again, he _had _cried over that stupidviolin last night.

Together, we meandered through the aisles, chatting about when I'd get my cast off, what we should cook for dinner, etc. Eventually, we did find the bread. They didn't have a huge bread selection here, and the few varieties they did have were nestled amongst boxes of Pop-Tarts and breakfast cereals. This particular aisle was empty of people, except for a woman studying the oatmeal a little ways down.

"Do you want white or wheat this week?" I asked, holding up a bagged loaf of each. No response. "Dad?"

I looked at him, only to find that his attention was focused on the woman down the aisle, brow scrunched and lips pursed, apparently in deep thought.

I touched his arm, but he shook me off.

"Dad, what're you staring at?" I whispered, replacing the wheat bread on the shelf and attempting to balance the white on top of the other items in our basket. It almost tipped out, but I steadied it just in time. Nobody wants smashed bread, after all.

"I know her," he murmured in response, still staring at the woman. I took a closer look at her, but she didn't stand out to me. She had auburn hair that was pulled back with an elastic band. She was wearing a pink sweater and carrying a purse patterned with embroidered kittens.

"Who is she?" I kept my voice low so she wouldn't over hear us. But instead of responding, Dad took off, heading for the woman. Curious now, I followed him.

"Molly?" he asked as we drew near. "Molly Hooper?"

The lady turned, and when she saw my dad, she dropped her basket with a shocked squeak. It crashed to the floor with a sharp banging noise, her items now scattered across the tile.

"_John?_" she said as if she was seeing a ghost. Shaking and blushing furiously, she quickly gathered the belongings she had dropped. Dad bent down to help her pick up her items, but she waved him off, insisting she could do it herself. This Molly Hooper straightened back up after she'd snatched a can of peas as it was rolling away.

My eyes flickered between the two, trying desperately to make a connection. I didn't remember her, though from the way she spoke, it was clear she wasn't American either. Her cheeks were still flushed with surprise, while the rest of her face was a pale white. It was a striking contrast.

"W-" she attempted to say, but she choked halfway through the word. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What are you doing here?"

My dad's smile was wide and sincere. "My son, Liam-" he gestured to me "-and I just moved from London."

"M-moved?" she squeaked, trembling like a little mouse. "What a coincidence..." her voice trailed off.

"Yeah, it's a bloody weird coincidence. You'll have to come over for tea sometime."

"Yes, yes, of course," she stammered. "Oh, and it's lovely to meet you, Liam. I didn't know you had a son, John." Her fingers were clenched tightly around her purse handle; I figured the fabric would tear soon from the pressure.

Before I could even respond, a familiar person entered the aisle from behind Molly. Ms. Hooper whipped around.

Apparently Sadie was here as well. What a lovely little meeting this was turning out to be. And, yes, that was sarcasm.

"Mom!" the newcomer said, jogging up to stand next to Molly. Sadie's eyebrows scrunched as she took in the situation. "Liam? What're _you _doing here?"

_Oh, you know, just hunting elephants. _But of course I didn't say this out loud.

Instead, I said, "Shopping with my dad. What are you doing here?"

Dad interrupted before Sadie could reply. "Sorry, but do you two know each other?"

"Um," I said. "Yes, this is Sadie. She's my friend."

"We aren't _friends_, Liam," she snapped with an angry huff. Molly reached out and slapped her daughter's arm, glaring.

"Sadie Hooper!" she said in a disapproving tone. "We don't treat others that way. Apologize!"

Sadie gave her mother an exasperated look, as if apologizing to me was the worst thing she'd ever had to do in her life. Then, reluctantly, she turned to me, arms folded defiantly across her skinny chest. "Sorry," she nearly spat out. I shrugged as if it didn't bother me, but to be honest, it kind of did.

I'd been nothing but nice to her, yet she's still the rudest person I've ever met, and truthfully? I was getting sick of it. I had half the mind to chew her out on the spot for being such a jerk, but the other half of my mind- the calmer half- told me that it wasn't worth making a scene in the middle of the store.

To add to my irritation, Sadie suddenly switched gears again, acting as if nothing had even happened and being perfectly nice. I was starting to wonder if maybe she was bipolar. It would make sense, anyways.

"Mom, Liam and I were assigned a group project," she addressed Molly. "Is it all right if we work on it this weekend?"

Several things then happened at once. More footsteps echoed behind us. Sadie's head snapped up to look over my shoulder. Molly engaged my dad in conversation again, trying to keep his attention on her. I whirled around to see what Sadie was staring at.

The clicking footsteps halted. Dad tried to turn and see what we were both looking at, but Molly dropped her basket again, the loud noise visibly startling him. Instinctually, he bent down to help her pick everything up, distracting him from the man now standing behind us.

He was tall, but that was about all I was able to take in about the man before he spun around and sprinted in the opposite direction from which he came. His long, black coat billowed out as he turned the corner. Sadie dashed after him. My dad straightened up, arms still full of cans and boxes, but both of them were already gone.

"Erm," he cleared his throat. "Molly? What just happened? Where'd she go?"

Dad set the groceries back in Molly's basket and handed it over to her. Molly had gone white again, but she was clearly making an effort to control her expression.

"N-nothing," she stuttered. "You see, Sadie has this problem where she tends to chase off strangers in public places. It's an issue, but we're- we're working on it."

It was obviously a lie made up on the spot, and I didn't believe it for a second. Dad didn't seem to totally buy it either, but he nodded slowly, still confused.

"I'm just going to go find her, then," I excused myself. "I need to talk to her about our project, anyways."

As I limped away on my crutches, I caught a last snippet of their conversation.

"-How's Mary these days?"

"She- Mary passed away a couple months ago, actually-"

And then I was out of earshot.

**0-0-0-0**

I found Sadie hovering by the canned vegetable aisle, deep in conversation with the man in the black coat.

"Sadie!" I called out. She glanced over at me and held up her index finger, clearly telling me that she'd be over in a minute. Then she turned her attention back to the man. I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but from the expression on her face, it was obvious she was unhappy with whatever the man had done. With a final eye roll, he stalked off into the multi-cultural foods aisle.

Sadie flitted up to me, her short, red-auburn hair bouncing around. She sort of reminded me of a cat sometimes.

"Who was that?" I asked, curious.

"Nobody," she shrugged. "Well, nobody you need to be concerned about."

"Uh, alright, then." My voice trailed off into silence before another thought struck me.

When I first met Sadie in detention, she told me that she knew my dad worked at the hospital because her mother had told her. But Molly Hooper, the woman we'd just encountered in the bread aisle, was so surprised at seeing us, it was clear that she, in fact, _didn't_ know my dad was in town. Something wasn't adding up.

"Why did your mum act so surprised to see my dad? You said she already knew he was here, and that's how you knew he was a doctor."

Sadie froze and opened her mouth as if to say something, but instead of explaining what was going on, she yanked my arm and pulled me into an aisle that held various candies.

"Wha-" I started to say, startled, but she clamped her hand down tightly over my mouth and shoved me down to the floor. Then, she crouched down next to me.

I tore her hand away from my mouth with a glare. "Sadie, what the _hell_ is going on?" I whisper-snarled.

In response, she held a finger to her lips and pointed two aisles over and across a bin of plastic balls. I couldn't see anything.

"What are you looking at?" I asked quietly. She shot me _'The Look'_ again, so I just shut myself up.

After about three minutes that felt like thirty, she sighed and stood, smiling a tiny bit. "Sorry about that," she apologized, and surprisingly, it actually seemed sincere. She held out a hand and helped me up.

"What was that about?" I asked, impatient that I still wasn't getting an adequate response from her.

"Listen," she whispered. "I can't explain things right now, but if you'll meet me at the school at midnight tonight, I'll tell you whatever you want to know." As an afterthought, she then added, "Well, to an extent."

_School? Midnight? What?_

As if reading my thoughts through my befuddled expression, she elaborated slightly. "The school's always unlocked, don't worry."

And then she was gone, running off to who knows where, as she seemed to do quite often.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**_Author's Note:_ Oh, look, I finally updated! Sorry about the wait, everybody. I hope you're still with me here. I also hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**Thanks so much for reading, and please review! **

**-SketchbookPianist**


	7. I Make Friends With a Vending Machine

**Chapter 7: I Make Friends With a Vending Machine**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

No, of course I wasn't going to go to the school at midnight to meet some rude, crazy girl who I barely know.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself as the clock ticked nearer and nearer to twelve o'clock that night.

It's bloody ridiculous that she'd ask me to go. There was no way I would. Absolutely no way.

At a quarter to twelve, I slipped my boots on, donned my coat, and for the first time in my life, snuck out of my house.

Dad was sound asleep, having retired to bed earlier than usual. I wasn't afraid of being caught. It was simple enough to get out- as quietly as I could, I just walked straight out the door and locked it behind me

Our street was empty of cars. Which was a good thing. The less people who witnessed this, the better.

The walk to the school was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. I strode (or hobbled) as quickly as possible, ducking into bushes or behind trees when a stray car rolled past. I sort of felt like James Bond or Natasha Romanoff. It was actually really fun.

As promised, the front doors of the school were unlocked. I slipped inside and carefully closed the door behind me, struggling to make as little noise as I could.

The commons were unlit, but the full moon shining in through the windows more than made up for the darkness. It was eerie, reflecting off the metal benches and casting shadows on the statues along the south wall. The place seemed so much bigger at night.

Sadie Hooper was stretched out on a bench near one of the hallways. She lay there, absolutely motionless. I approached her. She didn't react.

In fact, I wasn't even sure she was breathing, if the lack of rising and falling of her chest was any indication. Or maybe the fact that she was deathly pale, even in the bleaching moonlight.

"Oh, God," I muttered, setting my crutches aside and dropping to my knees in front of her. _Stupid girl._Stupid me for showing up in the first place.

I placed two fingers on her neck and wrapped my other hand around her wrist, checking for a pulse like my dad taught me to. I'd hoped I would never need to use that knowledge, but right now, I was eternally thankful he'd taught me.

Because her heart was beating perfectly normal, minus the fact that it was faster than it should have been.

It didn't add up. If she had a strong pulse, she should, by default, be breathing. That's just what people do. It's natural, if you didn't know.

And then she started laughing. I dropped my hand off her wrist and rolled back until I was sitting cross-legged. Her light blue eyes flew open.

"What the hell, Sadie?" I said, furious. "What was that for? You had me scared to death, and it's not funny!"

"I can't believe you fell for that," she chuckled, sitting up. "Of course I wasn't dead. I just wanted to see how long it took you to figure that out. I was curious to see if the trait of not being able to tell dead people from living ones ran in the family."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." She stood up and walked over to one of the vending machines.

"Sadie," I said, standing up as well. "Don't ever do something like that again."

"Whatever," she sighed, pulling an iPod out of her coat pocket and entering something in the notepad.

"I'm serious."

"Okay."

Good Lord, she was difficult, wasn't she?

I waited for her to say something, anything, to explain why she called me here in the middle of the night, but she just stood there with her iPod. I cleared my throat to get her attention. She ignored it.

"Sadie," I resigned. "Why am I here?"

"Well, it all started with a tiny particle approximately fifteen-billion years ago that rapidly expanded to create the universe-"

I rolled my eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"You wanted to know what was going on today at the store." She shut her iPod off and crammed it back in her coat pocket. "I said I'd answer your questions."

"What happened, then?"

"Suspect in my case was at the grocery store." She crossed over to the bench and flung herself on it, tucking her knees up to her chin.

"You're still on about that? You're thirteen-"

"Fourteen," she corrected.

I bit back a scathing remark. "Fine, you're fourteen years old, Sadie. You can't catch some criminal."

She glared at me. "Says who?"

"Says everyone." I perched on the bench next to her. Instinctively, she scooted as far away as she could from me. "How exactly did you get in here, anyway? Aren't there cameras?"

She snorted. "It isn't that difficult to disable a few CCTV cameras, you know."

"Sadie!" I spluttered. "That's illegal! Who taught you how to do that?"

"The British government."

"... Right. Okay."

"Anything else, or are you going to leave now?"

"No," I continued. "Who was that guy at the store?"

"Who? The grocer? The old, decrepit man shopping for vegetables? The little boy in the pajamas? You could be a bit more specific."

"You know who I mean. The one in the black coat you were arguing with."

"Oh, that was my father," she shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

"Elaborate, please?" Outside, the silver moon sunk behind the thick clouds, darkening the room considerably. I blinked several times to get my eyes adjusted.

"What's there to elaborate on?"

"Well, why did he run when he saw us? It was almost like..." My voice trailed off.

"Like what?" she prompted.

"It was almost like he was avoiding my dad. I mean, he looked at my dad and just fled." Wow. That sounded really stupid.

"Why would he do that? That's ridiculous." And I almost believed her.

_Almost._

But I decided to drop the subject.

The subject of her parents brought another question to my mind. "Does your mum know you're here?"

"Probably. She doesn't particularly care, though. She's used to me sneaking off in the middle of the night."

We fell silent. I had dozens of questions, but they all sounded stupid in my mind, so I pushed them into the back of my mind.

Finally, it was Sadie who broke the quiet spell. "Are you free on Saturday?"

I almost choked. "What?" I coughed.

"We need to work on the stupid project," she snapped.

"Oh," I said, relieved. It sounded at first like she was asking me to hang out. Which would be weird, as we barely knew each other. "Yeah, I'm free on Saturday."

"Good," she appraised. "We should get this stupid thing over with."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Give me your address tomorrow during geometry, then."

"I won't be here tomorrow or Friday," she said, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes.

"Where will you be instead?"

She pursed her bow-shaped lips, considering how best to answer my question, but luckily for her, she was saved by the bell. Literally.

No, I'm being serious. A little bell started ringing. I whipped my head around to locate the source of the noise, and found that it was right above me. For a reason unknown, a tiny, metal bell attached to a string was suspended over my head.

Sadie sucked her breath in sharply and, in a sudden movement, stood on top of our bench and tore the bell from its string, effectively halting its ringing.

"Sadie, what-" I started to say, but for the second time today, she clapped her hand tightly over my mouth. I rolled my eyes. Positively full of glee, she then proceeded to drag me off of the bench.

With my crutches in hand and hopping on one foot, she pushed me into a tiny space behind a vending machine. I barely fit, but she didn't seem to care. She tugged my crutches out of my hand and darted away.

"Sadie!" I whispered as loudly as I could with it still being qualified as a whisper. She didn't respond, already having disappeared. I bit back a curse and tried to wedge my way out from behind the machine, but no luck. I was stuck, but without my crutches, there wasn't a place I could really go to anyways.

I was about to call out again, louder this time, but a weird sound met my ears and I shrunk further back into the shadows at it. I'm not sure how to describe it- _thud, woosh, squeak_. That basically sums it up. As it got closer to where I was, I finally was able to place the noise. It was the sound of a skateboard rolling across carpet.

"What?" I muttered to myself, edging even further behind the vending machine. The sound faded away after a minute or two. It took another three minutes for Sadie to finally reappear.

And by reappear, I almost mean that literally. She practically popped up out of nowhere, something that it seemed she had a real talent for. I jumped violently as she suddenly stood in front of me, hitting my head against the wall. I swore under my breath and rubbed the back of my skull, glaring at her.

"Sorry," she said, but she obviously didn't really mean it. She offered my crutches out to me, ignoring the fact that using them was pointless while I was still jammed in between a refrigerated machine and a brick wall. After many stubbed toes and bruised knuckles, I managed to fight my way out of the crevice. She stood and watched, not commenting or offering to help.

"Thanks," I spat, a sarcastic smile on my face as I took the plastic and metal sticks from her still outstretched hands.

"You're welcome!" she said brightly, not detecting the tone in my voice.

"You are awfully cheery all of a sudden," I muttered, eyeing her. I'd never seen her as happy before.

"They were on a skateboard," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "It explains so much."

I waited for her to give me more details, such as what exactly a skateboard explained, but she'd already moved on to another subject.

"Actually," she said, "I will be here tomorrow after all. I'll give you my address then." And that said, she ran off, black coat twirling around her knees.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**Author's Note: Hey! I'm finally posting again, look at that. I apologize for the wait on this chapter. I've been busy updating my other stories, but school will be out on Friday, so I'll update much more often this summer. I promise.**

**Are people still reading this? I've been wondering if I should continue at all. I definitely want to keep writing this, so let me know if you're still interesting in reading. Tell me what you think in a review, and thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far.**

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	8. I Meet the Cats of Hell and Their Owner

**Chapter 8: I Meet the Cats of Hell and Their Owner**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

As promised, Sadie was absent the next two days of school. No, I wasn't worried about her. I didn't even think about her.

Alright, that's sort of a lie.

Ever since Wednesday night (or was it Thursday morning?), I've been stressing over our little midnight meeting. Skateboards, vending machines, weird families... Nothing was making sense. She was completely confusing.

Any sane person would have long since quit trying to be friends with her. She was rude, weird, and she _never_explained anything. Sadly, though, all of this just made me even more curious about her and her life.

It was extremely frustrating.

I secretly kept hoping that she would show up for class on both Thursday and Friday. I was dying to know about the skateboard and the mysterious person using said skateboard, but no such luck.

I didn't have her phone number and she didn't have mine, so it wasn't like I could call her. Not being able to have contact with her also meant that we couldn't work on the project together on Saturday, which was bad, seeing as it was due the following Monday.

Hannah tried to cheer me up at lunch on Friday, but it didn't really work. When she found out that my bad mood was caused by one Sadie Hooper, she erupted into a fit a giggles that attracted far more attention than I would have liked. In between the squeals of laughter, she kept spluttering out something about how 'Sadie and Liam are, like, so totally in love, OMG!' and so on. Seriously, though, she _actually _said 'OMG'.

In a haze of anger and embarrassment, I jumped up from the lunch table and ran as fast as I could on crutches to the library. I grabbed a random book from the shelf near my favorite arm chair and cracked it open, though I could hardly concentrate. My head was too full of thoughts. I turned the pages without reading the words.

I was about halfway through the pages of the novel when I felt my mobile phone buzz against my leg. I fished it out of my pocket.

Flipping it open, I discovered I had a text from an unfamiliar number. I opened the message and read it.  
><em><br>__**615 TARDIS DRIVE, Saturday 9 AM. Need to work on project.  
>-SH<strong>_

I had to read it three more times before I understood the message. Rolling my eyes, I quickly typed back:

**That's four houses down from mine. How did you get my #?  
>-Liam<strong>

Almost immediately after I sent it, she replied:

_**I have my methods.  
>-SH<strong>_

**0-0-0-0**

I woke up bright and early on Saturday morning, which roughly translates to 8:45 AM. I could have slept an hour or two longer, but my insistent alarm clock wouldn't shut up. After a quick shower, I dressed and entered the kitchen on my crutches.

Dad was sitting at the table, as always, calmly eating a piece of toast and reading the crime section of the newspaper.

"Morning, Dad," I said cheerily, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. He looked up in surprise.

"Well," he said through a mouthful of bread and jam. "You're in a good mood this morning." He swallowed. "What's up with that?"

I shrugged my shoulders and poured Cheerios into a bowl. "I'm going over to a friend's house to work on a project today." I dumped some milk on top of my cereal and sat down across from my dad.

"A friend?" he asked, a bit too casually. "Which one?"

"Oh, um, Sadie. You met her at the store on Wednesday." I started shoveling my breakfast down to avoid talking about it anymore.

"Molly's kid?" Dad scrunched his eyebrows. "Yeah, she seemed rather rude. It's funny, actually, because Molly is the complete opposite."

"Mm," I mumbled in agreement, sticking the last bite of cereal in my mouth and standing from the table. "I'll wash dishes when I get home."

"Oh, um, have fun, I guess," he called from his seat as I dashed out the door. "You have a doctor appointment tomorrow, don't forget!"

"I won't!" I yelled back as I shut the front door behind me.

When I had descended the front steps, I double checked the house number on my phone. Yes, _615_. My house was _607_, so... I'd have to go east to get to hers. Right.

I set off in that direction quickly, pausing only once to readjust my bag on my shoulders. _609_, _611_... I counted the numbers in my head.

Finally, I came to _615_. I wasn't sure what I was expecting. Maybe a turret or a haunted mansion or something equally as strange. No, Sadie Hooper's house was about as normal and average as you could get.

A small, dead flower garden bordered the garage and the edges of the house. Snow filled the window boxes that hung off the pale, yellow siding. It was a two story home, much like mine, though Dad and I hardly used the second floor.

I guess the only weird thing about the house at all was the doormat which came into view as I climbed up the steps to the door. The mat read "CAUTION: One does not simply walk into 615 TARDIS DRIVE." _  
><em>  
>I snorted at the <em>Lord of the Rings <em>reference and rang the doorbell.

Immediately, a chorus of cat meows and shrieks filled the air. I glanced at the window next to me and found the perpetrators of the noise staring back at me through the glass.

One of the two cats was about a hundred years old. It was like one of those funny grandpa cats on cartoons. Its whiskers drooped significantly and it had a half-crazed look in its eyes. The other cat was the size of a small bear, orange, and quite evil looking.

I made eye contact with the grandpa cat and it hissed at me, showing what once were probably very sharp, very menacing fangs. Together, the two were like the cats of Hell.

An exasperated man's shout came from one of the upper floors. "_Fine_! I guess I'll get the door, then."

I heard a series of muffled stomps as the man trooped down the stairs to the door. He wrenched it open with a sigh.

He was tall, skinny, and a bit younger than my dad, with abnormally high cheekbones and messy, curly, dark-brown hair. He was clothed in a navy dressing gown, slippers, and blue pajamas. His eyes, which were currently glaring at me, stood out against his pale skin. He seemed vaguely familiar, though I wasn't sure why.

He heaved another sigh and turned around to yell back up the stairs. "Sadie!" he bellowed. "Why is there a crippled hobbit standing on our front porch?"

I bristled with anger just a bit. I was _not _that short.

"Oh, that must be William," she called back, head popping over the railings on the main floor. "Let him in."

The man, who I could only assume was Sadie's father, stepped aside with a roll of his eyes and allowed entrance into the house. Then, he marched back up the stairs.

Sadie slid down the railing to the entryway where I was still standing. "Oh, good," she said, with a face void of expression. "You came."

"Of course I did," I muttered, confused.

"Most people turn around when they see the cats." She shrugged. "I'm glad you're here, actually. I needed to ask you a few questions about what you saw on Wednesday night."

"What?" I asked. "I thought we were going to work on the project."

In response, she snatched a poster up that was leaning against the wall and held it out to me. "Finished," she announced.

"Uh, right." I blinked.

"Come on," she said, hopping over to the steps and bounding up them. I followed her a bit reluctantly.

The front room was almost as normal as the outside of the house. A few mismatched couches and chairs filled most of the space. A desk with a laptop sat in the corner. An enormous poster of the Periodic Table of Elements hung on the wall- okay, I admit that one's more than a little unusual.

Sadie's dad was leaning against the entry to the kitchen and looking rather angry. On seeing him, I subconsciously shrunk away from his glare.

"Sadie," he said, shutting his eyes and placing his long fingers on his temple. "I need to have a word with you in the kitchen." He turned and swept away through the door.

Sadie glanced over at me. "You can just... sit here for a moment." She gestured to a chair near the fireplace and followed after her father.

I sat awkwardly, bewildered as to why her dad was angry with me when I didn't even know him.

I heard quick whispers emitting from behind the closed door to the kitchen. I wasn't much of an eavesdropper, but, well, what the hell? I listened in anyways.

"...You _know _who he is, Sadie," said the voice of her dad. "Do you realize you could have put everything at risk by associating with him?"

"Oh, _please_." I could practically hear the eye-roll I'm sure Sadie just did. "He has no idea."

"Exactly!" the man growled. "Neither of them is supposed to know, and they never would have had the chance to find out if you hadn't bloody invited him over!"

I heard Sadie snort. "They won't find out."

"No," her father said. "They won't, unless you want them to die. Moran is still out there, and he's just waiting for them to find out so he can kill them. Is that what you want?"

No reply from the girl. She might've nodded or shook her head or something. I don't know.

"I am going to go talk to him," he said after a lengthy pause. "You go stand in the corner."

"Dad," she whined. "I'm too old for time-out."

Another pause.

"Fine," she spat, pushing her way back through the kitchen door and slamming it behind her. I quickly adopted a mask of_ 'Of course I wasn't listening. I'm perfectly innocent.' _Without saying a word to me, she stormed over to a corner by the window and stood with her back to the rest of the room.

The man entered next. His demeanor from earlier had completely disappeared and he was calm and composed and as cold as a block of ice.

Still in his pajamas, he sat with unusual elegance in the seat across from me, legs crossed, and fingertips pressed together under his chin.

I shifted uncomfortably in my own seat under his scrutinizing gaze. It was like my first meeting with Sadie all over again. His eyes were piercing through every secret I've ever had.

"William Sherlock Watson," he muttered, still examining me. "Interesting middle name."

"What?" I asked, startled. Again, I was under the impression that nobody knew my middle name aside from my dad, probably Sadie, the weird letter writer, and me. "H-how did you know that?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Doesn't matter how I know." Sadie laughed from her place in the corner. Her dad picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at her. It barely missed its mark as it thudded against the wall, but she fell silent again anyway.

"My mum picked it out," I said, trying to compose myself. "Don't know why. Dad's never explained."

"Mm. How long has it been, then?" he murmured softly.

"S-since when?" I stuttered. He was starting to scare me just a bit.

"Six months?" He cocked an eyebrow. "I thought so. Your father, is he enjoying his job at the hospital?"

I couldn't get anything past the lump in my throat. He smirked.

"My name is Basil Hooper." He held out a slender, calloused hand. Trembling, I took it and we shook hands.

"Nice to meet you, sir," I eventually got out.

"Pleasure." He stood and released my hand, swiftly departing down a hallway, his dressing gown flaring out behind him like a cape.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**_Author's _Note****: I am so, so sorry for the wait. This chapter was a struggle to write. Even after completely rewriting it twice, it still seems more of a short, word-vomit than an actual, decent chapter. I hope next chapter is a bit better. I apologize for this mess.**

**Sherlock is so hard to write. How did I do? I feel like I was extremely out of character with him. What do you think?**

**A few of you have mentioned that the chapter titles sound like Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson series titles- That's actually where I drew inspiration from, seeing as those are my favorite books. **

**I have drawings of what Sadie looks like up on my DeviantArt page. I'm not the best artist around, but if you're curious as to what she looks like, you can check them out. The link to my DeviantArt is on my profile.**

**Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews I received last chapter. I'm glad people are still tuned in. Things will start to pick up next chapter with a stake-out of the school, an enormous cat, and a surprise visit from a teacher.**

**Thanks for reading, and please review! I love hearing what you all think!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	9. I'm Attacked by a Furry Death Machine

**Chapter 9: I'm Attacked by a Furry Death Machine**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

"You're being serious right now?"

We were currently located in Sadie's bedroom. In all honesty, the room _fitted _her. The walls were painted a light blue, but you could hardly see it in between the various newspaper clippings. The papers covered every visible inch of the walls, and some of them even dated back before I was born. The clipping nearest me was called "Suicide of Fake Genius" and was at least fourteen years old, going from the date.

Shoved up against one wall was a small piano. Sadie had explained that it was in her room because her parents grew tired of hearing it played at four AM in the morning. I didn't know she played piano, but when I asked if she'd play it for me, she just glared. On the opposite side of the room was her neatly made bed. Next to that was a desk with a microscope and a few beakers of fluid on top.

The ceiling was home to thousands and thousands of glow-in-the-dark plastic stars. They weren't arranged in proper constellations, though. Instead, it seemed as if she'd stuck them up there at random. There were so many of them, I was prepared to bet they lit up the entire room even in pitch black darkness. I wondered how she could sleep with all that light.

Sadie herself was curled up on the window bench next to – you guessed it – the window. A plain skateboard was resting on her lap.

"Yes, of course I'm being serious," she explained. Her blue eyes were bright with the excitement of telling me about all of her findings.

"So, apparently, this mysterious person has been going around smashing plaster busts of the town's previous mayor, and in order to do this, they've used _skateboards _and metal-tipped bullets from a _Nerf gun_?" I summed up. She blinked as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Pretty much." She shrugged her skinny shoulders.

"_Why_?" I spluttered. "I mean, why? Why? Why?"

"Four excellent questions." Oh, there it was, 'The Look' was back. "On the outside, it really doesn't make much sense to an average brain, does it?" she mused.

"Nope." I scooted closer to the wall, leaning my head up against it. "Does this kid have something against the last mayor?"

"I wouldn't see why. He seemed to be well-liked by everyone in town. No, I think that there is something more superficial to this case."

"What do you mean, 'superficial'?"

She sighed. "Drugs, Liam."

I stared at her. "_Drugs_?"

Again, 'The Look'. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "Marijuana, cocaine, weed, crack, whatever you want to call them. That's what this person is after."

"How do you know?" I was feeling kind of nervous now. The concept of drugs slightly scared me, as did the idea of messing with drug dealers. I know this is stereotypical of me, but those people tended to be pretty possessive of what's theirs.

"Three weeks ago, about the same time those statues were made and sold, a large stock of cocaine disappeared from the containment room at the city hall. This cocaine is of a very high quality, and therefore, it is worth a lot of money. Once it was stolen, the police made a huge deal about finding it, obviously, so whoever had taken it would feel compelled to hide it somewhere."

"And you think they hid it in the statues?" I asked just to clarify.

"Of course. It's likely that the plaster hadn't fully set yet, and after tightly sealing the cocaine in a plastic bag, they deposited it inside. Not exactly original." She scoffed.

"Not exactly… Oh, come on, Sadie!" I laughed to myself. "When has something like this _ever _happened before?"

She gave me a withering stare. "My dad once encountered a case very similar to this one when he was living back in London. The circumstances were slightly different, but overall, it's nothing too unique."

"Your dad's a detective?" That would actually explain a lot – like why she was so interested in crime and mystery and whatnot. A nagging thought at the back of my head wondered if somehow, her solving this case was meant to prove something to her father. He hadn't seemed like the most loving bloke.

She shrugged her shoulders and looked out the window. "He used to be more popular when he was younger. Then he moved here, and he had to settle down a bit more."

Her eyes flickered to me suspiciously. Before I could ask what she meant by settling down, she interrupted me.

"How often do you eat?" Sadie tilted her head.

"Uh. As often as a normal person would?" I tried to make it sound like a statement, but her question had caught me off guard.

"Oh, so three meals a day and snacks in between." She slid away from her perch on the window bench and stood. "Are you hungry?"

"What?" I was a bit wary of trying her food. I didn't put it past her just to poison me for 'science', as she called it. "Not really."

"Don't lie." She opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Reluctantly, I followed her.

Her hallway was much more exciting than mine. It had what I assumed to be abstract paintings (but looked more like an ape had taken some finger paints and splashed them on a canvas) and more of those plastic stars decorating the walls. It was a little strange, but that was only to be expected from her. We passed a closed door I hadn't noticed on our way in. It was painted bright red with "Hammy's Room" in bold, black letters across it.

"Who's Hammy?" I asked, gesturing to the door.

"Oh, that's Hamish, my younger brother," she explained carelessly.

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"Now you do." She rolled her eyes. "He's nine years old, terrified of strangers, and mute."

"Ah." I was sort of at a loss for words. I assumed she wouldn't want pity, so I just said, "I won't bother him then."

She led me the rest of the way down the hall and into the kitchen.

Her father was sitting at the kitchen table. Sometime in the last hour and a half, he'd changed out of his pajamas and into a fitted suit. He'd brushed his curly hair as well. Now that he was looking more decent, I could see the similarities between him and his daughter. Identical eye color, identical cheekbones, nose and lip shapes… You get the gist.

As soon as Sadie stepped forward towards the cupboards, a flying ball of fur leapt out from the corner of the room and nearly knocked me down. It was one of the demon cats, I thought, but I was too preoccupied with keeping it from ripping my throat out to care _what _it was. I felt its claws sink into the flesh on my arm and tear its way down to my wrist. By then, I was flailing madly to shake the thing off, but it only tightened its grip.

After watching me suffer for at least thirty seconds, Sadie finally came to my rescue, prying the devil off of me. As soon as it reached her arms, it hissed and leapt down, slinking off to sulk in the corner. I realized that it was the grandpa cat that had attacked me. Jesus, for something that old, it was still a death machine.

Something warm was trickling down my arm. I inspected it and I wasn't really surprised to find it bleeding quite severely.

Mr. Hooper sighed and stood. "Go get the first aid kit," he barked. Sadie scurried out of the room.

"Sorry," he apologized to me, though I wasn't sure if it was sincere or not. "Toby, Sr. is a bit… _touchy _these days." He pulled a towel from a drawer and held it against my bleeding forearm.

"I can tell," I muttered. Sadie returned, bandages and anti-bacterial cream in hand.

"Wouldn't want the cuts to get infected," she smirked. Mr. Hooper gave her an exasperated glare. Her smirk only became more pronounced in response.

When my wound was cleaned and bandaged, Mr. Hooper invited me to sit at the table with him. Nervously, I complied, though I was finding that I liked him more and more each minute.

"Do you have any aspirations for the future?" he piped up, reading the crime section of today's newspaper intently. I blinked.

"Um… Well, I've always wanted to be a pilot," I offered, shrugging.

Mr. Hooper snorted. "I have a brother who's a pilot," he said, not taking his gaze from the article he was reading. "Bit of a pointless job, if you ask me. He doesn't actually get paid for it."

"You don't get paid for your job either, dad," Sadie chimed in from the kitchen. At the moment, she was studying a potted plant on the windowsill, occasionally jotting down notes.

Mr. Hooper pretended not to hear her.

**0-0-0-0**

An hour later, Sadie and I were in her backyard. It was neat and clean and covered in a blanket of pristine snow. A white fence separated it from our school's field, and she was currently on her tip-toes, peering over it at the building. I wasn't sure what she was looking for – the statue smasher had clearly shown that they preferred to work at night.

A thought struck me. "Sadie?" I called out. She didn't bother turning to face me, but I knew she was listening. "If they were there the other night, why didn't they smash the statue then?"

"I scared them off," she said.

"I thought they didn't know you were there."

"They didn't know it was me, _obviously._" She dropped back down and crossed back to where I was. "I used a flashlight, a cardboard cut-out of Robert Downey, Jr. and a chair."

I wasn't really sure on how all of that could fit together to scare off a determined drug dealer, but I decided not to question it.

She exhaled sharply. "Right, we're going to need your tree-house."

**0-0-0-0**

When we'd bought my house, it came fully equipped with everything and a tree-house situated in the back. I hadn't been up there yet, partly because my leg prevented me from doing so, and also because it was insane to sit in a non-insulated wooden box perched in a tree with no windows in the middle of January. It seemed sturdy enough, but I was sure it'd be filled with snow and broken branches and dead bugs.

Sadie didn't seem to mind. When we walked back to my place, she'd gone directly to the frayed, rope ladder and lithely climbed up. A few seconds later, her head popped out of the window above me.

"This is perfect," she shouted down. Then, she disappeared back inside. I heard a rustling noise and an avalanche of snow and broken branches and dead bugs tumbled out from the door on the floor. I dodged it easily. Without bothering to use the ladder again, Sadie jumped from one of the windows and landed in the white powder next to me.

"What exactly are you planning to use my tree-house for?" I ran my fingers through my sand colored hair.

"We're having a stake-out tonight," she announced, hands shoved in her black coat's pockets.

"Wha-" I spluttered, looking at her like she was crazy – which, on second thought, she probably is. "Sadie, it's going to be freezing tonight. This is a bad idea."

She only shrugged. "Wear warm clothes."

"Sadie-" I warned, doing my best to glare at her.

"This is going to be our last chance to catch this person, Liam." Her stare was rather intimidating.

I bit my lip. She was so _needy _sometimes. She was pushy, aggressive, rude, demanding, bratty, stuck-up, weird, and honestly, I wasn't sure why I was even putting up with this. When Hannah had asked me to be friends with Sadie Hooper, this was not what I had expected when I signed up. Yeah, being mauled by a demon cat, forced to stay outside in freezing weather, and helping to catch a criminal were definitely _not_ in the job description.

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

**_Author's Note:_ I know I promised a more exciting chapter, but I decided to save that until next time. I apologize for this boring word vomit. **

**But, anyway, I hope you all still enjoyed it. I hope I was able to explain the situation a little more, and if there is anything else you want to know, please tell me and I'll try and explain it in the next chapter. Also, if there is anything specific you'd like to see happen, please let me know and I'll see what I can do!**

**Oh, and before I forget, I wanted to ask opinions on pairings. Like, do any of you actually ship Liam/Sadie? That pairing just seems… weird to me. I can't see it happening. **

**If you're reading, please let me know what you think in a review! It would mean a lot.**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	10. I Learn How to Shoot Long Distance

**Chapter 10: I Learn How to Shoot Long Distance**

**0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0**

Soon after Sadie declared we were using my tree house to stake out the school building, she flitted off back home to either ask her parents' permission, or possibly to fight off a rabid otter that was attacking her house. She said it all so quickly, I couldn't tell exactly what she'd said. The girl really needed to start enunciating her words better.

I wandered back inside, confused and dreading the cold night we were in for. I couldn't believe I'd ever agreed to this.

"Dad?" I asked as I stepped into the kitchen. He was at the sink, washing a few dishes, bubbles crawling up to his elbows.

"Hm?" he responded, scrubbing a spot on one of the dinner plates.

"Can you please take my cast off?" I leaned my crutches up against the wall and sat at the table.

Dad put the plate down in surprise and turned to look at me curiously. "Can't you wait a few days? You have an appointment to get it off on Monday."

"Yeah," I said with a shrug. "But, the thing is, it's really itchy and annoying and difficult to deal with at school..."

I didn't want to tell him the real reason I wanted it off was so I'd be able to climb into the treehouse tonight.

"I'm not licensed to do that." He rinsed the plate off and selected a glass from the soapy water.

I rolled my eyes. "You did it when I broke my arm six years ago."

"Only because you were pitching a colossal fit."

"And I'll do it again if that's what it takes," I threatened. "Just cancel the appointment. They won't care."

"Liam..." he sighed, pulling the plug in the sink and drying his hands.

"Dad..." I said in the same tone.

"Fine," he gave in, tossing the towel aside. "I'll take it off, but next time you've broken something, you have to wait the entire time."

I smiled and nodded, knowing full well that next time (if there was a next time), he'd give in again. He always did.

**0-0-0-0**

One hour, much swearing, and a pair of ruined heavy-duty scissors later, my cast was gone. For the first time in five and a half months, I could walk without the crutches.

Well, sort of. After five and a half months of walking with crutches, I found that my leg was a bit weak from not being used. In fact, as soon as I stood and put weight on it, I collapsed to the floor, much to Dad's amusement.

"I have a spare cane you can borrow until you've built the muscle back up," he offered, helping me to my feet. "No sports or, I dunno, cab chasing for now."

"Cab chasing?"

He frowned. "It's nothing. Where'd that friend of yours go?"

"Oh, she went home. Is it alright if we hang out in the tree house tonight?"

He gave me a strange look. "Bit cold for that."

"We're staking out the school building. She insisted we use the tree house." Hopefully, he would just think I was joking.

"Liam," he groaned, shaking his head. "Staking out a school? What for?"

"She's trying to catch the statue smasher," I explained. "She likes crime solving. I think she wants to be a detective."

Dad's hand shot out and grabbed my shoulder tightly. "Don't get involved with people like that." His tone was low and serious.

"What? Why not?" I recoiled slightly.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "They're so bloody unreliable. It's fine. You two can use the tree house, just, be careful and all." He let go of me and limped into the kitchen, leaning heavily on his cane.

**0-0-0-0**

At precisely 6:45 that evening, Sadie Hooper returned. She didn't enter my house through the front door or even the back door. That would be way too main-stream for her.

Nope, she came in through my bedroom window.

Let me explain: we hadn't gotten around to putting screens in the windows yet, so if they were open, they really were open. We usually didn't open them because that would enable a number of various things to unwelcome things to enter our house - cats, cold air, birds, bugs, Sadie Hoopers.

Sadie Hooper managed to bring in three of those things on the list: Herself, cold air, and a cat.

"Can't you do anything the normal way?" I asked, hardly surprised as she climbed in through my window, hands wrapped around a pet carrier and a backpack.

She blinked, setting the pet carrier down. Whatever was inside growled menacingly. She gently kicked the plastic side and the animal shut up.

"Please, tell me you didn't bring the demon cat with you," I pleaded.

"Okay, I didn't bring my demon cat with me." She dropped her backpack at the foot of my bed, reaching behind her to close the window.

I sighed. "Why'd you feel the need to bring it with you?"

"He's necessary for the stakeout." She shrugged and flopped down on my bedroom floor, taking off her trademark shoes - navy-blue flats with bows on the toe.

"Well, which of the cats is it?" I stood and grabbed my dad's old cane from where I'd placed it by my desk.

"Toby, Jr. The one who attacked you was Toby, Sr. I would have brought him, but he's too old for this kind of thing."

I wanted to ask exactly what sort of thing Toby, Sr. was too old for, but I'd learned that with Sadie, you pretty much found out what she was talking about sooner or later if you cared enough to stick around.

"Liam!" my dad yelled from down the hall. "Dinner's ready!"

"Uh, okay!" I called back. Then, I softened my voice and addressed Sadie. "Can you, just, go back out through the window and knock on the door?"

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't really want to explain to my dad how you appeared in my room without him knowing." I crossed the room and reopened the window. Sadie rolled her eyes, but complied, slipping her shoes back on. With an exasperated glare, she hopped onto the sill and soon was gone.

Ten seconds later, the doorbell rang.

Composing myself, I left my room and headed down the hall to let her back inside.

"That was really tedious," she complained under her breath, stepping over the threshold and removing her shoes again.

"Oh, I'm sorry that behaving like a normal person is such a chore," I spat, leading her into the kitchen. Dad had set out an extra plate as if he was expecting her to show up.

"Hello, Sadie," he said cheerfully, bringing a covered pot over to the table. "It's nice to meet you."

"Thank you for having me over, Dr. Watson." She smiled, perfectly polite.

"Please, call me John," Dad said, strolling back into the kitchen to grab the pitcher of water by the fridge.

I nearly vomited at the pleasantries. I made a disgusted face at Sadie, and she, in turn, stuck her tongue out at me. I resisted the urge to reach out and slap her arm, but that wouldn't be very nice, considering she's a girl, and I was prepared to bet she'd hit me back even harder.

"What'd you make?" I asked, reaching over to take the lid off the pot. A cloud of steam gushed out.

"Um, rice," he answered, filling the three glasses with water. "It's a new recipe I found the other day. They call it 'Surprising Rice'."

"Why is it called that?" Sadie questioned. She pulled out the chair nearest her (which also happened to be my usual chair) and sat down. I suppressed a sigh and took the chair reserved for guests – not that we ever had any.

"Well," he said, a hint of a smile on his face, "if I told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, now would it?"

I felt my face pale. It's not like Dad's a bad cook or anything, it's just that he should really start sticking to the basics. Mum usually did the cooking. When he made new recipes, it usually ended in disaster. I remember a particularly memorable time when Mum was working late and he decided to make a chicken recipe he'd found online. We both ended up with salmonella. I swear to all that is holy, if he gives Sadie food poisoning… Actually, she would probably deserve it.

A huge spoonful of the mushy concoction landed on my plate. Sadie had already received her helping and was poking around the gooey mass. Warily, I took a bite. I suppose it wasn't too bad. The grapes were a bit much, though.

"So," my dad said, sitting across from me at the head of the table. "Liam's told me quite a bit about you."

She smirked at me. "Has he?"

"He mentioned that you like crime solving and detective work."

Her eyes lit up.

I sighed in exasperation and shoveled another forkful of surprising rice into my mouth.

**0-0-0-0**

"… and that, John, is precisely why Dean Castiel should never have been charged with the murders of the Pond family," she finally finished with a flourish.

"Ah, brilliant!" Dad said happily. "You've got quite the talent for this sort of thing."

It was the funniest thing – all throughout Sadie's enthralling (yes, I'll admit, I was hooked onto every word she said) explanation of a 2012 murder case, my father had been completely tuned in, hanging onto every detail.

"Thank you." She tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear and set her fork beside her barely touched plate.

"What did you think of the Gordon Shappey case a few years ago?" he asked, taking a sip from his water glass. "Personally, I think he should have been charged for the murder of his wife, Hayley."

"Oh, definitely –" Sadie started to say, but I interrupted them.

"Sadie, shouldn't we be getting the tree house ready or something?" The wooden legs of my chair scraped across the tile as I stood up.

"What?" Her head whipped around to look outside. "Oh, yes, that's a good idea." Turning back to my dad, she added, "Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful."

"You're very welcome." He smiled fondly at her.

I rolled my eyes, snatched my cane from where it rested against the table, and hobbled down the hall to my room. I could hear her footsteps as she followed me.

"What the hell was all that about?" I demanded when we were in the safety of my bedroom.

"What was all what about?" She crossed to where the pet carrier was and picked it up. The cat inside let out a deep, feral snarl. I resisted the urge to shudder at the sound.

"You were kissing up to my dad," I accused, grabbing a stack of blankets, an electric lantern, and the book I was currently reading.

"I was not!" She slung her backpack over her shoulders and departed the room. I decided to let it drop.

Shaking my head, I followed her out into the snow covered yard, where she had already ascended the rope ladder. I quickly climbed up after her.

"Wow," I said as I entered the tree house. "You've been busy."

She shrugged. "I've been here since 5:30, setting everything up."

The small, square room had been completely redecorated. All the leaves and twigs and bugs had been cleared out, and a short bookcase had been propped up against one wall, its shelves partly filled with random books. A woven rug had been spread over the floor, dotted with a few throw pillows, and various posters (including a Periodic Table of Elements) had been tacked onto the walls. A wooden crate sat in the corner, filled with a variety of things. From where I was, I could see several binoculars, a walkie-talkie, and an umbrella.

Perhaps the most dramatic change to the room had been the addition of real, glass windows.

"Sadie…" my voice trailed off.

"Well, did you want to sit in the cold for hours?" she asked, hands on her skinny hips. "I wouldn't have minded so much, but I knew you'd just complain, so I put in the windows."

"It's incredible," I breathed, dropping my belongings on the rug.

She blinked, taken aback. "I thought you'd be mad, and that's why I didn't ask for permission."

I couldn't help myself. I started chuckling. Soon, the chuckles turned into full-on laughter.

"What?" she demanded angrily. "What's so funny?"

"You, Sadie Hooper, are absolutely ridiculous," I choked out as the laughter gradually slowed and stopped. She furrowed her eyebrows, but didn't comment.

"Anyways," she said, looking a bit flustered, "the windows open and close, so it still might be a bit cold in here. Also, I brought binoculars. I was thinking we could keep watch in shifts. That way, one of us could be taking notes while the other keeps a lookout."

"Sounds good." I plopped down on a black-and-white striped throw pillow. "About what time are you expecting the guy to get here?"

"Could be anytime, really," she muttered. "But, I'm assuming it will be before eleven; that's the time he would least expect us. Will you let Toby, Jr., out?"

Begrudgingly, I crawled across the rug to where the feral animal was locked up. Quickly, I opened the cage door and flew back, arms curled across my body in case it decided to spring out and kill me. The enormous cat did no such thing. It merely slunk out from the pet carrier, hissed at me, and jumped on top of the bookcase.

"We don't need that lantern, by the way."

"What? Why not?"

In response, she just pointed to the ceiling, where a single lightbulb had been installed. Then, she reached up and pulled the chain. It lit up the treehouse with a yellow light, and there really was nothing I could say.

**0-0-0-0**

Three hours had passed in near silence, except for a few muttered words here and there. Strangely, the silence wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It was nice.

10:30 found us sitting as quietly as ever. Sadie had taken over at the window, whereas I was bent over a notepad, neatly printing down the facts of the case she'd told us over dinner. Of course, I'd never tell her I was writing it down. That would only give her ego another unnecessary boost.

"Liam," she said suddenly. "Come here."

"What is it?" I whispered, crawling over to peer out the window. She handed me her pair of binoculars, and I squinted through them. "I don't see anyt- _oh._"

"Exactly," she murmured, the corners of her bow-shaped lips curling up. She spun around and dug through the crate. She passed the object over to me, and I examined it.

"A slingshot?" I asked, confused. "What for?"

"How well can you aim?" She looked at me with a wry expression.

"I'm not bad, but –"

"Don't lie. You've attended three, no, _four_ archery classes in your lifetime, and you've achieved top spot in each."

I felt my face flush.

"I want you to shoot the window near the statue right as he's about to smash it," she explained, pressing a small, steel marble into my palm. "It will shatter the glass, and the perpetrator will run, obviously, but this time, he'll take the statue with him instead of just breaking it and leaving."

"Are you sure?" I inserted the marble into the pocket of the slingshot and drew the elastic back. Carefully, I took aim through our open window. I closed one eye and imagined the marble hitting its target.

"Positive."

We watched the shadow grow nearer to the plaster bust of the town's last mayor. Darkened hands hovered above the statue. An outline of a Nerf gun could be seen resting again the intruder's hip.

"On my count," she whispered. "Three… two… one… shoot!"

I released the taught elastic and the marble was released. There was a faint sound of tinkling glass in the distance. Sadie let out a breath she'd been holding. The cat behind us made a coughing noise. Time seemed to freeze for a moment.

Then, the shadow scooped up the plaster bust and darted out of sight, just as Sadie had predicted.

"Quick," she instructed. "Grab the leash and collar from my bag."

I dropped the slingshot and lunged for her backpack, extracting the long, leather lead and collar. I tossed it to her, and she fixed it around the cat's neck.

"This is no time to be taking the cat for a walk!" I exclaimed, one foot on the rope ladder.

"Oh, it's always time to take Toby on walks." She grinned manically and snatched a large skateboard from the crate.

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**_Author's Note:_ I feel really horrible about the wait for this chapter. I hope you all aren't mad at me! **

**I have a challenge for you readers. I've inserted three references to the canon books and show, and five references to other programs in this chapter. If you can find five of these references, you get a gold star. Good luck!**

**I'd be eternally grateful if you left a comment telling me what you thought of the chapter! Please, please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	11. I Witness the Conduit Street Shooting

**Chapter 11: I Witness the Conduit Street Shooting**

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And that was how I found myself holding hands with Sadie Hooper, being pulled by a cat towards what I figured was certain death.

But, I had to hand it to her: her creativity was unmatched. How many other people could say they chased a criminal this way?

After we'd left the treehouse, she'd immediately darted to the sidewalk, cat and skateboard in hand. She clipped the leash onto Toby, Jr.'s collar, slung the board across her back, grabbed my wrist in a death grip, and we took off, demon cat in the lead.

Apparently, he was also a sniffer-cat. Because the skateboard had previously been owned by the statue-smasher, Sadie used it to prompt the animal forward. I have no idea how she managed to get a hold of the skateboard in the first place, but I figured I'd learn eventually.

So, feet pounding on the pavement, we ran, coats flapping out behind us. It was absolutely exhilarating. I let out a breathy laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation.

We'd just turned the corner on Tardis Street and made it onto the road the school was on when I realized that I'd forgotten my cane. Pain shot through my left leg, but I ignored it and willed myself forward. I guess this was what Dad meant when he said not to chase cabs. Except, of course, we weren't chasing a cab. We were chasing a violent, possibly armed drug dealer.

"Faster," Sadie urged under her breath, tugging on my arm. "Look, there he is!"

At the end of the road was a silhouette, illuminated by the yellow lights of the lamps. He was only maybe a hundred meters away, on the opposite side of the school, but he was moving fast. He darted around the street corner the moment he saw us, heading up Winchester Drive.

Sadie halted in her tracks. I ran into the back of her. The cat gave an indignant growl as it was yanked back by its leather lead.

"Sadie!" I protested, tugging my arm away from her steely grip. "What are you doing?"

"Shut up," she snapped with a glare. "We need to go a different route. Call the police, tell them to go to Conduit Street, and then be quiet so I can think."

I decided not to question her, so I meekly pulled my mobile phone from my pocket and dialed the emergency number.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?" the calm voice asked from the other end of the line.

Quickly, I explained the situation to them, letting them know only the most important details. She transferred me over to the local police station, and I repeated it all to the officer.

The man didn't seem very convinced that two thirteen year olds had caught a criminal, but he promised to send a patrol car over anyways. I thanked him and hung up. Next to me, Sadie was impatiently tapping her foot.

"They're sending a car over," I told her.

She nodded. "The person will be making a loop, eventually reaching back to where we are. Obviously, they believe that will trick us."

"So are we just going to wait here?" I asked.

"Don't be daft. We need to get him to Conduit Street to meet the police."

"What are we going to do?"

Sadie looked at me. "You're going to go home."

"What?" I said, shocked. "Why?"

"Your leg must be hurting you," she replied icily. "If you want to leave, you can."

"No." I didn't even have to think it through.

"Fine." She shrugged. "In that case, take this." She pressed the lead with cat still attached into my hand. "I need you to go up Richardson Road, which connects with Conduit Street. I'm going to wait for him here and chase him over to meet you. The police should be there by then. Understand?"

I nodded and turned, walking swiftly in the direction of Richardson Road, which was about a two minute walk from where we were.

To an outsider's perspective, I probably looked like any normal person taking their enormous cat for a walk in mid-winter at nighttime. The majority of the house lights were off, though, so I wasn't really worried about being seen.

A gentle snow began to fall. I wrapped my coat tighter around my body and trudged on, avoiding patches of ice. Toby trotted happily in front of me. Occasionally, he would stop to smell the pavement, face contorted in something that could only be described as absolute serious-ness. I smiled to myself as we turned onto Richardson Road together.

The street was shorter than some of the others that surrounded it. Up ahead of me, I could clearly see where Richardson connected with Conduit. I hastened my pace so I could hopefully make it there before Sadie did.

No such luck. I heard a scuffling a street over. It sounded like a trash can had been tipped over. There was some muffled talking. I sped up even more.

Then I heard a gunshot.

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God._

I broke into a sprint, running as fast as I possibly could towards where Sadie and the statue smasher obviously were. I whirled around the corner, finally making it onto Conduit.

"Looking for this?" Sadie called out. The statue smasher was a good thirty meters away, closer to where I was than to her. I knew Sadie knew I had shown up, but she wasn't paying me any attention.

He was facing her, dressed in all black, pistol pointed in her direction. I was no expert, but I could tell that if he shot, he'd miss her by at least a foot. That was somewhat relieving.

Sadie held the skateboard up.

"Give it to me," he ordered in a deep, ragged voice.

"You should really be more careful with your possessions." She flipped the board around in her hands. "Especially valuable ones."

I had no idea what she was going on about. It was a piece of wood with wheels on it. Not particularly valuable.

"Set it on the ground and back away," the person growled, adjusting his grip on the gun.

"Really, though? Hiding cocaine in the wheels?" I could just hear the smirk in her voice. Next to my leg, Toby stiffened, a low snarl building in the back of his throat. I nudged him with my shoe and he shut up, though not without giving me a condescending look.

"I will shoot!" the statue smasher warned. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost his Nerf gun.

"I had respect for you," Sadie continued, brushing off his threat. "I mean, you had executed these crimes nearly perfectly. And then, of course, you had to leave your skateboard behind. How much are the drugs here worth?"

"I said, _give it to me._" His finger inched towards the trigger.

By now, curious people had emerged from their houses after hearing the first gunshot. They stayed on their porches, not daring to go near the madman drug dealer with the pistol. Several were rapidly speaking into phones, probably calling the police. Or the media.

Sighing, I yanked Toby's lead and tied it to a lamp post nearby. He didn't seem very happy about it, but I didn't care what he thought. I picked up a thick branch half-buried by snow. I could hear the wail of sirens growing nearer and nearer by the second.

I edged my way out into the center of the street and began creeping up behind the man.

"No," Sadie said, denying his request yet again. Her voice was perfectly collected. Maybe she doubted he would actually shoot.

"Excuse me?" he spat.

"I said, no."

The police sirens increased in volume. The cops were only maybe a street or two away, but they still weren't moving fast enough.

I knew what the statue smasher was going to do before it happened, so I started running, lifting the branch above my head, prepping to bring it down on his skull.

Too late.

The second gunshot of the evening split through the night air, and Sadie Hooper crumpled to the asphalt.

I swung the branch down as hard as I could, and with a sharp _crack, _the man followed suit.

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**Author's Note: WOW, I cannot believe the feedback I received for the last chapter! 13 reviews! That's incredible! You guys are excellent, wonderful, perfect readers, and I couldn't ask for anything better. I apologize about the short length of this chapter, but I wanted to save the next part for my next update. I'm expecting there to be two more chapters before I wrap this up.**

**However, I would like to know if anyone is interested in a sequel. I'm considering making this a trilogy, much like my other in-progress fanfiction, though these stories would be much shorter, averaging in ten to thirteen chapters apiece. I have a lot planned (including the John and Sherlock reunion), so if you want a sequel, I would be happy to oblige. Let me know in a review!**

**Also, a special shout-out to Dinogeek and insertwittynicknamehere for picking out the most references in the last chapter. Everyone else who participated in my little challenge did magnificently, so gold stars for all of you! You are all brilliant!**

**Thank you so much, and please review! **

**-SketchbookPianist**


	12. My Second Meeting with the Human Snake

**Chapter 12: My Second Meeting with the Human Snake**

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"You have _got _to be kidding me," I remarked incredulously.

"I'm pretty good at acting." Sadie shrugged, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at the bandage on her ribs.

"You certainly fooled me."

We were sitting together in the back of an ambulance, legs dangling off the edge. Someone had wrapped a blue blanket around my shoulders, claiming it was for shock. Ridiculous, really; I wasn't in shock.

Three police cars and two ambulances had screeched to a halt on Conduit Street almost immediately after I'd whacked the statue smasher over the head with the branch. Without a pause, the paramedics and cops had surrounded the three of us, hauling Sadie and the other guy onto stretchers – much to my friend's protests – and directed us to separate ambulances. Sadie was furious about being coddled, but I was relieved that she was still conscious, at least. It turns out that the bullet had only barely grazed her left side, and she crumpled from the force.

One of the paramedics, EMT Jones, I think, had bandaged Sadie up, checked her for a concussion, and directed us both to sit and keep calm. As would be expected from a five-year-old in a teenager's body, Sadie had an extremely low tolerance for pain.

"They could have at least given me some stronger pain meds," she whined. I snorted.

"Any stronger and you'd be out cold. I saw what they gave you."

She stuck her tongue out at me. I playfully nudged her in the arm. She hissed and recoiled in pain, even though I hadn't even touched her wound.

"Grow up," I advised her, watching my dad's car pull up a few houses down. "I'll be back in a few."

I slid off the edge of the vehicle and began walking in the direction of the blue car. The people who lived in the surrounding houses were still outside, giving the police their statements of what had just occurred. Sadie and I had been told to be at the station tomorrow to give ours.

The blue and red flashing lights cast funny shadows on my dad's confused and worried expression as he approached the scene.

"Over here!" I called. I waved my arm around a bit. Relief flooded his face as he saw me, and he all but ran to me. I met him halfway, throwing my arms around him.

"Oh, God, Liam," he said, hugging me back. "Don't scare me like that again." He pulled back and held me at arm's length, studying me carefully. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You almost killed someone."

"He'll be fine."

Dad laughed and ruffled my hair. "You're just like me when I was a kid."

Then I noticed something. "Uh, where's your cane?"

He blinked and looked around, furrowing his eyebrows until he resembled an angry hedgehog. "I- I don't know. I was in a bit of a rush to get out of the house. Must've forgotten it. Where's yours?"

"Left it back at the tree house. Guess I didn't really need it after all." I shoved my hands in my pockets.

"Should we go, then?" Dad gestured back to where he'd parked our car.

"Yeah, just let me take this back." I tugged on the corner of my blue blanket.

"Shock blanket?" I nodded. "I'll wait for you here."

I turned and walked quickly back the way I'd come, towards the ambulance. I wove in between the people, careful not to step on any toes.

By now, Sadie's mum and dad had both arrived as well. Mrs. Hooper had her arms full of Toby the cat and was talking animatedly to her daughter, probably asking if she was all right, how badly she was hurt, etc. Just the normal, motherly things. Mr. Hooper was standing off to the side, holding the hand of young, ginger-haired boy who I assumed was Hammy. The little boy looked positively terrified of being surrounded by so many strangers.

I made eye contact with Mr. Hooper as I passed the family. He nodded at me, and I think a tiny smile may have ghosted his bow-shaped lips, but then he turned away. I kept walking.

I deposited my blanket back on the ambulance, and prepared to leave, but someone stopped me.

"It's such a familiar scene, isn't it?" a voice said in a gentle, Irish brogue. I whipped around.

Familiar, cold, snake-like eyes met mine. I froze in place.

"Mr. Drebber," I whispered.

"Crime scenes are always _so _exciting," he continued, smiling his creepy grin at me. "They say you can always tell the true character of someone by how they behave at a crime scene."

I didn't like how he kept saying 'crime scene', as if it was some sort of spectacular, romantic event. He said it almost as if it were a lover.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound angry.

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "_Very _good, Liam," he said sarcastically. "I once knew another boy named Watson. I can never remember his first name… James? Jack? He was fond of asking obvious questions, too."

I didn't say anything.

"Conduit Street is a wonderful place to live. It's very… family focused." He smirked. "See you at school, Mr. Watson."

And then he was gone, waltzing back into the shadows of the street, whistling a Beegees song.

My hands were trembling. I clenched my fists to make it stop. I could feel my nails leaving indents in my palms.

Steeling my nerves, I spun around and walked away as fast as I could. I wouldn't tell anyone about that little encounter. It was clear enough that it was meant to be kept secret. And, besides, who would I tell? He hadn't hurt me or threatened me. Yeah, I just needed to keep quiet.

I passed the Hoopers again just in time to hear the statue smasher (whose name was still unknown – not that I'd recognize it anyways) yell in his deranged, madman voice, "I would have gotten away with it, too, if you two stupid kids and your ugly cat hadn't meddled!"

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**Author's Note: Whew. One chapter left, everyone! Then I'll start working on the sequel. The title is still in progress, but hopefully I'll be able to give a teaser of it in the last chapter. **

**Anyways, I stuck in two references to other shows, two references to the show, and (these might be harder to pick out) two references to the canon. If you'd like to try finding them for another gold star, I'd be very pleased. **

**Thank you all for the supportive, wonderful reviews! They really mean a lot. I would respond to each one separately, but I am a rather lazy author, so I hope you won't hold it against me. I do love and cherish each and every review I receive, though. **

**Speaking of reviews… (and I know this is a lot to ask for) but do you think we can make it to 100 reviews by the time this is finished? **

**Thanks for reading, and again, please review!**

**-SketchbookPianist**


	13. I Reach a New Level of Popularity

**Chapter 13: I Reach a New Level of Popularity**

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The next two days passed in an energetic blur. Sadie and I were called to the police station to give our statements twice on Sunday to two different officers. The statue smasher and would be murderer, Michael Elliot, who coincidentally was Hannah's step-brother, was convicted with four accounts of burglary, two accounts of drug possession, and one account of aggravated assault. Thankfully, I'd gotten off spot-free, as my own attack against Michael was counted as self-defense.

In the end, Sadie and I were each given a medal for outstanding service to our community or something like that. Toby, Jr. was even given a little charm of a police badge that Mrs. Hooper proudly attached to the cat's collar.

Dad seemed rather pleased with me, I think. He took a day off of work and let me skip school on Monday. We spent the day chatting mindlessly, baking cookies, and then cleaning up the disaster left behind in the kitchen afterwards. And the best part? His cane was put away in the closet, hopefully to never be taken out again.

Unfortunately, on Tuesday morning, I did have to return to the busy halls of Linford Middle School. At least I was off the crutches now, and the slight limp I had was rapidly fading.

I was standing at my locker, calmly putting my books away and avoiding the limbs of a disassembled Barbie doll, when Hannah ran up and crushed me in an enormous hug.

I laughed nervously as she let go and stepped back. "Um, hey, Hannah. What was that for?"

In response, she frantically waved a newspaper around in my face. I tugged it out of her hands. It was a fresh copy, just printed today. The headline on the front page read, "A NEW SLUETH FOR NEW HAMPSHIRE: How Two Kids Solved a Grown-Up Mystery". Underneath was a picture of Sadie and me that had been taken at the station on Sunday.

"Wow," I muttered.

"The entire school knows about you now. You and Sadie are all we've been talking about since yesterday." I grabbed a random paperback from the bottom of the locker, and she kicked the door shut. Together, we began walking down the hall. People were staring as I passed them. Some of the girls smiled flirtatiously at me. My face turned the color of a tomato when one of them slipped a scrap of paper with numbers scrawled on it in my hand.

Hannah glowered at the retreating form of the brave little brunette. I pretended not to notice.

"Speaking of yesterday," she continued, "where were you both?"

"I don't know about Sadie, but I stayed at home."

"Oh, so you weren't, like, _together, _then?" With a free hand, she pushed her blonde hair back behind her ear. I couldn't help but notice that her freckles were more prominent today than they had been before.

"No," I said slowly, but then it dawned on me what she was really asking. "Oh, God, no! No, I don't like her like that."

Her pink painted lips quirked up in a little smile when I said that. "Good." We stopped outside a classroom. "This is my class. Anyway, see you around?"

"Yeah, sure," I replied, a little breathlessly. She reached up and planted her lips lightly against my cheek before turning and flouncing into the classroom.

I blinked, a grin forming. It continued to grow as I walked further down the hall until I had an enormous, goofy smile plastered on my face. I was so lost in my own, happy little thoughts that I nearly ran into Sadie.

"Oh, hi," I greeted her, beaming. She took in my ridiculously cheerful expression, but apparently decided not to comment. I had no doubt she already knew what had made me so happy.

"Liam," she acknowledged me. She nodded her head at the sign she'd been studying. "Check it out."

It was a large, rectangle piece of poster board that had obviously been made in a hurry. I could barely decipher the obnoxious, bubble writing, but I think it said something about gingers. It must have been a new addition to the hall as I hadn't seen it before.

"'The Ginger Society'," Sadie read out loud. "Since Friday, these posters have appeared all over the school, trying to get fellow natural red-heads to join in their little club. I found this in our locker this morning." She pulled a crumpled flyer from her skirt pocket and held it out for me to read.

"They want you to join?" I asked. She nodded. "Are you going to?"

"Well, it seems a little… suspicious, wouldn't you agree, Watson?" She smirked.

"New case?"

"Are you interested?"

I didn't even have to think about it. "Of course."

"Excellent." She shoved the flyer back in her pocket and added, "I won't be seeing you in geometry today, by the way."

"Why not?"

"The principal transferred me to a different teacher at a different time. He wants me to be an office aide instead, and devote first period to solving the little mysteries around the s – What's that?" she suddenly sharpened her tone and jabbed a finger at the stack of books in my arms.

I was confused for a moment before I realized she was pointing at the paperback I'd found in the locker. "Oh, this?" I held it up. "Do you mind if I borrow it? I have English after maths and I forgot to bring my own reading book."

She considered it for a moment, before saying, "Go ahead." Then she seemingly evaporated into the crowd of students making their way to their own first classes.

I looked at the book for the first time. _A Study in Pink, _by… I couldn't tell who it was written by. Sadie had marked it out with a big black marker. I shrugged and put it down as another of the many oddities about her.

I was actually really excited at the prospect of another mystery to solve. "The Mysterious Case of the Great Ginger Society," it could be called. Of course, the club might be innocent way of showing red-head pride, and maybe I was just a little too eager to be involved in something exciting again, but I couldn't wait for it to really start.

Sadie had accepted me as a friend.

We were going to solve more problems together, maybe with the help of her demon cats again.

And it was going to be _fantastic. _

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**Author's Note: So, after waiting around for nearly six months for me to slowly update each chapter, I've finally finished what I think is the best story I've ever written. I know I sound really vain, but I am rather proud of myself right now.**

**And of course, I couldn't have done any of this without the never-ending support of you readers. You are the people who kept me going, who kept me writing, who kept encouraging me to bring this to an end. I almost gave up on this half-way through! But I didn't, thanks to all of you. I can never thank you enough.**

**You are all brilliant and never cease to amaze me. I loved reading your thoughts as the story progressed, and what you thought was going to happen, and how you picked out all the stupid little references I stuck in there. I wish I could give everyone a big hug and a brownie and a pet hedgehog.**

**Hopefully, I'll be able to start writing the sequel to this as soon as possible. I'm very glad you're interested in reading more – that makes me feel successful as an author. You can stay updated on future developments as they happen via my Tumblr or my DeviantArt journal. The links to both are on my profile.**

**Pretty please can we make it to 100 reviews? If not that, then 95? I would be eternally grateful. **

**Thank you all again so much. **

**Love,**

**SketchbookPianist**


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